Unfolding the Past
by E.B.Unchained
Summary: The title is very explicit! Beware readers 'cause this is a little dark story (all the movie topics: incest, violence, abuse, madness, sex, death), definitely angst. Not for the faint of heart, so M it is. Sharpe siblings are 4 years in age difference. Comments welcome, even for grammar, I'm just human! Disclosure: I own nothing, all credits for Guillermo del Toro and Legendary.
1. Making madness

They had born in the confinement of that wretched house. They had grown there and in time they had got to know almost each room and turn, but still the house was a stranger to them. Like and old fat cat, it had gotten more cantankerous with each passing year. It was in that house, that the hands that once caressed playfully grew warmer and yearningly. And love turned into sin, and then love was harvested from sin itself. But that was before and after, somewhere in between, tough the masters of the Sharpe state were still young and the few they knew of Allerdale Hall, allowed or not, was their entire world. And the house, it has always known they every secret.

The house was a living relic, Allerdale Hall, and impressive manor which stood like a fortress at a piedmont in the Cumbrian Mountains. The region held lakes that irrigated the mountain slopes and plains, making them good lands for growing crops or beasts. And there were also the mines, copper and iron was extracted from the mountain tops. The state belonging to Mister Arthur Edward Sharpe and inherited trough three generations, was not strategically located at the mountain base, were the water from the lakes washed the soil minerals giving the clay that composed its grounds a characteristic red color, because of the metal oxides. The claret clay was good in quality, but the soil was too humid, and the clay melted in a red muddy puddle, especially during the rainy season.

For three generations, the Sharpes had lived form digging the soil, mainly in the lower part of the state located at the eastern side. This area was farther from the mountains, so the clay was drier and also farther from the house. The western side connected with the mountain base in a subtle slope. In the middle of the state, there was a hill where the manor was erected. It had been Arthur's grandfather, Arthur Eroll Sharpe, who was baptized the place as crimson peak. His pants were red up to the waist when he returned from the digging site at the western side, _"Bloody crimson peak"_ had he said once and again. When the wagons' trail had collapsed, two workers had lost their lives devoured by the crimson pool of clay. The bodies could not be recovered, so the mine was closed and the team was moved to the eastern side. The emptiness left on the earth by effect of the ploughing, was slowly been refilled by more liquefied clay that flowed underground like sticky jelly, coming from the mountain side. The house foundation have yield in some areas, and its skeleton was literally resting over red quicksand.

The sinking continued at a slow pace, and when Arthur Edward Sharpe acquired the privilege and responsibility to manage Allerdale Hall, the damage in the house structure was already notorious. The humidity had creep trough the wood making floors and walls to strain under its own weight. Some parts of the house were closed because the floors were in danger to fell, if they hadn't already collapsed. A house as old as this one is also gifted with passages and secret doors that are left out of the blueprint. At the age of almost four, Lucille had learned to sneak her way in and out of the nursery, an ability of much use when you are under lock most of the time. This was, when Mister Arthur Edward Sharpe was not at the house. It was for her safety, her mother had told, she cannot afford the child to get hurt by wandering unsupervised in that big house.

But it wasn't as if there was no one else living or frequenting the manor. There were Nana Beth and her sister Adelaide, old John Abbott, Miss Paige, Dr. Irving Randolph, Doyle and Jory, and also the mining team used to settle in the nearby grounds from early Spring to late Fall. The house itself was big enough and there were days in which old Adelaide was the only person Lucille saw. Adelaide was Nana's youngest sister, brought to Allerdale even younger that Nana, she had helped as a maid and in the kitchen, until little Lucille had born, then she became the child's nursemaid. Nana, as old Abbott used to say, was as old as the house itself, she was the housekeeper and formerly the Master's nursemaid herself.

Miss Mary Ann Paige had arrived little more than a year ago, she had ride in the carriage along with Mister Sharpe. A governess, he had said, _"She will teach you the manners and acquaintances that a lady must have in order to became a good wife for a desirable suitor"_ , Mister Sharpe had stated to his daughter. _"Sutor?"_ had the child asked. _"A wealthy and respectable gentleman"_ , he has responded, leaving the child as bemused as before she had asked. Miss Paige was a very young woman, and since she had settled in Allerdale Hall she had spent more time with little Lucille than even her own mother, during her entire life. Lucille liked her because she smiled and make her smile, but the child knowing her mother ways as she did, hid the smiles behind closed lips, just in case. Life had become more delectable after Miss Paige had moved to Allerdale Hall, and even better after Mister Sharpe had returned from his last travel. He had been in the house for three months so far. The Master of Allerdale traveled frequently, in the cold season he was far away from two to three months in a row. The child longed for the times her father was at the state, despite their parent's differences that usually ended in her mother crying. At such an early age, Lucille already knew in which wall to put her ears on to listen a private conversation. Not that she payed attention to her parents conversations anyway.

It was on her fourth birthday that Lucille's life started to change for good and bad, or it was only that she became more aware that the things that happened around her. Curiosity had growing on her, and the nursery fitted her tight enough, none an unexplored inch. She had forgotten her birthday if not for the present she found beside her bed. She had felt asleep in the toy box again, pretending it was a magic carpet like in the story Miss Paige had read to her two nights ago. She wandered for a long time and then she felt hungry, but Adelaide usually brought her breakfast just moments after she waked up. She waited a little more, and finally she dressed up as best as she could, leaving the apron of her dress behind, because she didn't have the precision nor the patience to deal with bows. After that, she tried to sneak out unnoticed and find what was going on.

Nana was not in the kitchen and neither was Adelaide, nor her governess. She would not dare to peek on her father's studio in fear of be caught by her mother in the main hall. She was glad father was there, it had been for the longest time she could remember. It was because her mother was sick. This she knew because Miss Paige had told her that her mother had a child growing inside her belly, she also told her that because of that her mother needed more rest.

When someone needs rest, that is how grownups said that someone is sick, Lucille thought.

"How it come there inside?" The child had asked.

Your father put it there in the way that is destined by god", the governess has said, grateful that the girl didn't wander over that question.

"When it will come out?"

"When he has grown strong and ready"

"How will he know?"

"Your mother will"

"But how he will come out?"

"That is only for women to know, not for you child, not yet"

"Will he live here?"

"Of course, you'll be the big sister and you will both share the nursery"

"Can I play with him?"

"More that play, you can show him or her everything you know"

Lucille thought she didn't know much, maybe the baby will have his own governess.

Her mother had grew irritable, she had told doctor Randolph that they baby didn't move and maybe it was already dead. The good doctor had soothed her, by telling that so far everything seemed good, and he has no reason to think the baby was unhealthy. Lucille barely seen her mother after that, as the Mistress spent most of the day in her rooms, and Lucille was not supposed to be out of the nursery without Miss Paige.

The space between the walls was limited and smelled as moldy as it could be, but a child can easily squeeze her way through the closed down service tray and climb down in between the planks to the second floor. The access was blocked on the second floor, so she had to make it to the first floor. Then walk stairs up back to the second floor and find the trap door on the hidden closet used to storage the bed clothes and linens. This connected with the main and second room inner passage. Also, if you reached the first floor, there was one of the guest bathrooms which pipes were exposed trough the wall, the space allowed to use the main pipe as a sliding pole ending in the ground floor, close to the kitchen. The way back through the pipe was a lot harder, and this route was not wise if someone was having a hot bath. For Lucille to move between the floors using these walkways was literally a child's play. Adrenaline rushed in the little girl's body every time, and she hide and listen and walk very slowly to make no noise. She actually enjoyed her escapades. The trick was to step on the right places, one wrong step and the wood may creak soundly leaving her exposed. She felt like spying, but she didn't need to spy on the rooms to realize that her father and mother were again in disagreement.

She didn't like it and usually she got scared to the point of running back to the nursery and cry in nescience. Her father could be very hard in his punishments toward her mother, but it was the same her mother was for her, so she didn't think it was out of place or reason. That was the way things were as long as she knew. Still it had perturbed her in the occasions she had seen blood running from her mother's lips or nose.

She had been about to retreat when she hear Miss Paige's name, so she snooped from her secret spot, remaining attentive to the scene unfolding in front of her. She didn't quite followed what happened, nor understood all the words they yelled to each other. One thing was quite sure, she never has seen her mother so defiant toward her father. If it was to avoid a punishment, it didn't work, because he hit her with his closed fist right on her face. She dared to spit at him, a red stain landing over his white shirt. The governess had left, and if he dare to bring another one she will hang herself and the children in the main hall for them to be the first view that welcome him and the whore, so the vision haunted them for the rest of their lives. _"Let's see if she dare to lay with you when my death body is hanging over your heads"_. This speech irritated Mister Sharpe to the point of no return, and his temperament had already very thin borders. He forgot his wife's condition, as no women on her 'condition' will ever speak to her husband in such a tone. He wasn't scarce when teaching her lessons about marital devotion and obedience. She had fell to the floor from the jab, he grabbed her by the hair bending her over the bed, then he used the cane. The same she used on her, Lucille noticed, her eyes filled with tears. The cane stroke against her back and legs several times before he dropped it tumbling backwards in realization of the damage he had caused.

A sharp sound make him turn around suddenly. The heart of Lucille almost stopped. The broken china scattered on bedroom entrance where old Nana stood startled, her hands preventing the scream to leave his mouth.

"Master! I..." Nana yelled in an imploring tone. The Mistress raise her head, showing her reddened checks between tangled hairs.

"Go ahead, continue if you must", she said in defiance.

"How dare you-"

"Master, please!" On this plead, he lowered his hand that was ready to deliver another strike. He looked at the housekeeper and then looked back at his wife.

"You insolent woman, will be the death of me. I swear-" but he didn't finished, he realized he was voicing his toughs more than it was necessary.

"Please Sir, the child!"

"Nana just… take care of her", he said swiping his arms in a defeated gesture. "I don't want to be disturbed if not dearly necessary", he said leaving the two women in the room.

That was how Lucille realized that her governess was been dismissed again, a shame, she liked this one. Miss Paige had sewn a new dress for her as her birthday present. The girl didn't liked to be alone, for the house creaked and the wind make hissing sounds, as if the structure itself breathed like a dormant dragon. Like the dragon on Miss Paige's story, the one that sleep on the castle of the bad knight conquered by King Arthur. Of course being four she believed in what adults told her, taking fairy tales for real. She didn't dare to question the story nor the storyteller, even less importunate her mother to get a second opinion.

She was still squeezed behind the drape of her parents' bedroom, her belly on the floor where the last wooden plank was fell long time ago, her eyes peeping through the ripping at the bottom of the fabric piece. The door to the passage was concealed behind the big tapestry that hung from ceiling to floor. A hunting scenery, which still displayed some of its once livid colors, now faded behind a coat of dust. Nevertheless, she liked the horses stitched on it, they seemed to be flying with his extended legs that didn't touched the ground. The trees were several tones of green and full of blossoms. She never had seen trees, they didn't grew in Allerdale state, because the land was blessed by the clay, father had said - _"...cursed it is, cursed by the bloody clay that bleeds out of the earth like a dying animal..."_ , her mother had said instead - they usually had contrary points of view, even from such menial things.

How Miss Paige had bothered her mother so much, she didn't knew. She couldn't, because she was in the nursery sleeping as a child should be, when Mrs. Sharpe woke up to find the cold place in her husband's side of the bed. She had walked in the dark halls, to find him feasting himself in the younger woman's flesh. She had raged, yelled, and ran from the scene with watering eyes. She had locked herself in the bedroom while Mister Sharpe had left to sleep on the studio after knocking at his bedroom door for at least one hour. The embarrassed younger woman had also locked herself, crying in shame and fear. It was late at night when Mrs. Sharpe had sneaked into her room and pined her against the wall, grasping her roughly by the hair, making her cheeks red in slaps and yelling at her a list of obscene degrading names. No one will intercede for her, nor Arthur for sure, when she will be dragged to the deepest pit of hell by demons with piercing claws. Her skin will burn black and tear off where she had been touched by the married man sinful hands. Where she had allowed to be touched by him. Punishment for sinners was pure torture, and she deserved it all, for rutting with a married man, under the same roof he shared with his wife, an infant sleeping in the nursery and another in the wife's belly. She must had known as she knew that men are weak, and Arthur, Mister Sharpe, was in enough restrain because his wife's health had become fragile with the pregnancy. The doctor had order her to remain in bed, to restrain of any exertion, even walking the stairs, in fear her body fainted and she might fell, putting in risk the baby's life. But it was him who had elicit in her such reactions. He had tried to force himself on her when she had opened her door in bed clothes. Of course she didn't expected the Master to be the one knocking at her door so late at night. She had tried to stop him at first, but she yielded when his lips took hers in a needy kiss and his hand found the way to her womanhood. A virgin she was when he had claimed her. In her naive mind, she confound lust with love, keeping the secret encounters, leaving her door unlocked to allow the trysts that followed.

For fourteen months she had tended the little girl, a lovely child that looked just like her father and for the last three months she had also tended Mister Sharpe needs at night. Now she had to wake up from the futile dream, because he would not abandon his family, he had a wife and a daughter and soon another, and he had a name and affluence enough to keep the word 'adultery' unrelated to him. She was no one, a twenty years old girl, stupid enough to fell in sin the first time she felt a man's breath too close. She had a family in the country, farmers and hard workers but not wealthy. They had implored to the sisters of the Nunnery House to take they daughter in the grace of god. They had took the child, she had been raised and educated, but she never took the vows, causing her mother to almost die in shame. If she returned she will be married, but now she was not untouched, she was stained win sin. She had prayed all the night, and was thankful that this affair has not consumed with a child. She had enjoyed little Lucille, she had brushed her dark hair, thinking on a children if her own, dark haired like Mister Sharpe. But that never will be, she will bear no one child, as no one will take a sinner as wife. She will get back to the sister's order, she will take the vows to keep her disgrace in secret.

Her mother had told her god will punish her for being so ungrateful, and she knew she was right. This was her punishment, here in Allerdale Hall. God had bring her to show her what she will never have. She will never laid again with a man, she won't, Mrs. Sharpe had cursed her and her offspring, for a sinner can only bear imps in her womb, fruits of the sin she was filled with by her greedy lust. She believed it, and so she had left early in the morning, when it was still dark. She didn't wanted to face any of the Sharpe again. She had went into the nursery leaving the dress she had made for the girl next to the bed, wrapped in brown paper with a blue lace, a note saying Birthday blessings for Lucille. She had kissed the child's tender cheek goodbye.

Later that day Lucille cried under the bed, that was always a safe place, the bed covers hanged to the floor making a full concealment. She cried for her mother and her father and Miss Paige. She cried for herself. She cried herself asleep. And dreamed with the sweetest thing in the world, a kiss, the one Miss Paige had put on her sleepy face when it was still dark, she noticed and stirred but didn't open her eyes. She fake to remain asleep to startle Miss Paige, so they can both laugh on the trick. But when her eyes finally opened, she was alone. Was it a dream? She wondered, but it wasn't, it wasn't because of the present that was carefully placed at the nightstand beside her bed. Her birthday, she thought, it was progressing very different from her morning expectations. No breakfast first, not a walk on the state grounds with Miss Paige. She really wanted to see the horses and her mother had consented finally. Not even dinner with father in the Big Hall. It must had been past afternoon already when the door of the nursery open, it was Adelaide of course.

Adelaide was an old lady, but younger to Nana by almost 16 years. Nana Beth had been in the house even before the Master had born, she had serve the Masters and Mistress of Allerdale Hall since she was ten and the house was in a much better condition. She had married young with Abbott, one of the stable boys the Master Jacob Sharpe had bring to the state. Master Jacob had took Abbott from the streets of London, at twelve the boy was a beggar and a thief, uneducated and wild. The streets of London were hard on the homeless boys threatening with sickness that usually took the ones without proper clothes or meals. The boy was but a stick with stuttering speech, thought he was not retarded as everyone said, and the master noticed that. Master Jacob Sharpe, Master Arthur's father, was a noble soul as Nana Beth remembered. He liked to hunt, and took Abbott regularly as companion. They boy grew strong in the clean air of Cumbria, grass under his feet, hot porridge and tea, warm coat to sleep. He still hunted, to bring fresh meat to the Masters table. He guarded the state and no one knew as him every inch of the land. The house was a different territory, he had only been inside in the ground floor. He and Nana birth no children, but they took charge of Nana's younger sister, Adelaide, and bring her to Allerdale Hall.

"The Master send old Abbott to the town, he must bring Doctor Randolph to see your mother. She is sick, so you don't go on causing any trouble today". Not like the child caused trouble anyway, at least not that anybody noticed.

"Stay here and be a good girl", she told with a gentler tone.

Poor child, she thought, better keep her innocent of the unfortunate events that has taken place on the floor below. She had seen the girl so excited about the new baby, and that will probably never going to happen.

Adelaide had traveled to her birth town for one of her older sisters funeral, and she had promised the Master to return on time for the little mistress birthday. She had never left Allerdale for more than a week, and never the sisters had absented altogether. While Nana had traveled three days ago, Adelaide had left to join her the night before the funeral, so they will both attend to the service and will return the same day, expecting to be back at the manor by the morning of next day. It was only one day for the Masters to be at his own, old Nana didn't like it, but the Master had assured her they will be fine for one day. Only that, they weren't. Whatever had happened it was not of her concern, as a housekeeper has no ear for her Masters affairs. She knew that the governess had left for good, even if the damage was already done. She had warned the fool girl. She had it coming. What had transpired between the Masters after that, she could not imagine, she must, knowing him as if he was his own son. She had saw him grow, a young lad carrying his fathers mistakes on his own back, the weight had crooked his will and turned harsh his traits. The rest had rotten along with his marriage, too old the wife, unsuitable to carry the babies to term. The little girl had been a miracle, the Master loved her, but it always had been disappointment in his eyes. because she wasn't the heir he was expecting. And now this, another child in risk of lost, she just hopped it was not boy, if the creature was destined to die.

Adelaide helped to dress the girl properly, combed her hair, and grabbed her by the hand.

"Come dear, how can I look for you if there are three floors of stairs and my legs are not what they used to be. I almost have run like thirty times between the kitchen and your mother's bedroom. She is sick, the poor one".

They used to have two or sometimes three maids at the house, especially when the Master was in the state, but they rotate frequently, chased away by the childish fears toward the house - people on town said the place was haunted - most of them dismissed by the Mistress, especially in her depressive stages. The recently remaining one had left as soon as Nana had arrived, claiming to hear horrible screams in the night, she had not dared to left her room. Lucille was left on the kitchen table, she has been there on rare occasions.

"You stay here and eat your dinner. I will check if the good doctor arrived".

The doctor entered in a rush, dropping coat and hat on the nearest couch, his leather briefcase dangling on his arm.

"Miss Adelaide can you please set water to boil, and get clean sheets". He hurried up through the stairs and found the way to the left hall when Mister Sharpe stopped him.

"Irving, thanks for coming"

"Don't mention it, let check on your wife". But he was interrupted in his attempt to advance.

"Arthur?"

"I.." he said like a child confessing to have stolen a cookie from the jar. "She got on my nerves". The doctors eyes grew wide in understanding.

"Of course", he said lowering his sight, then looking at him again with reprehension. "I though you realized she is on her six month of pregnancy, and after the previous loss, all boys, well what you expected? Of course she got on your nerves! But you may at least for once keep your mood at bay, couldn't you for god's sake, for your child at least if not for her".

Arthur Sharpe was not a man to be reprimanded like a child, but he valued Irving as an older brother, he had always advised Arthur in his best interest, even when he forewarned him not to married Agnes. Arthur had not listen to him then, but he had realized his mistake on time.

"Please, Irv-"

"I'll do what is in my hands Arthur"

When both men moved forward through the hall, the doctor take his turn to stop Mister Sharpe, holding a hand to his chest.

"I don't advice that your presence in the chamber will do any help to your cause, nor hers".

Arthur Sharpe nodded and remained in the parlor, while the doctor enter in the room to attend his wife.

The afternoon elapsed in oblivion for Lucille, she could hear the steps on the stairs up and down, and sometimes Adelaide or Nana peeped into the kitchen carrying pots with water and red covered rags to wash. She had played by herself in a corner, pretending to cook with empty jars and a spoon. Adelaide prepared her a simple supper, she ate without much appetite and fell asleep without realizing it. When she woke up the room was dark, the candles lit on, she saw no one and didn't hear the stairs anymore. She tough that maybe everyone was asleep now, and so she will go back to her room to sleep on her bed. The kitchen looked spooky and a goosebumps ran trough her back, even if she was not usually afraid of the dark. She grabbed the candlestick with her two hands, and was about to venture for the main stairs, when Adelaide came running and pass her without noticing the child. She stopped on a door and knocked at it with urgency, her father study. In seconds the door open, she didn't hear what was said but her father burst toward the stairs, making two steps at a time, Adelaide trailing after him.

Lucille followed but her flame extinguished with the fast running. She was left behind and had to continued her way through the dark hall, the light at parlor located at the end of the corridor as her only guide. When she was finally there she saw his father in the antechamber, talking with the doctor who was cleaning his hands covered in blood. The doctor expression was of concern.

"A word, Arthur" He got closer to the his friend, whose was almost shaking in expectation and fear. "The baby, he has born alive but I'm afraid his little body was not yet... ready"

"It is a boy?"

"Yes, but listen to me Arthur, he is not exactly well"

"What, what do you mean"

"His heartbeat is faint, and he is struggling to breath, he doesn't cry nor respond to the touch"

"Will he die?"

"I have to be honest, the odds favor that. Even if he made it, I cannot guarantee that he will develop as a normal child. Has never seen one preterm born alive so early"

"You say he can be, retarded?"

"I don't know, in some cases a difficult birth can affect the child brain, making him mentally limited. Most preterm children I had seen are health of the mind but their bodies are weak, frail of heart, faint breath, prone to sick, they organs are not yet developed so they need special attention until they grow stronger".

"So he can die or be retarded"

"Or he can be perfectly normal, we don't know".

"You examined him, tell me sincerely what do you think"

"Arthur, I cannot tell, I tough it was a miscarriage and it surprised me to find the boy alive, if barely. It looks like a skeleton of a baby more than a baby, but is alive. More dead than alive, though".

Arthur was holding the tears that tried desperately to come out, a knot in his throat make him breath difficult.

"For how long?" It was a plead.

"I don't know, the risk is very high during the first hours and days, but even if diminished it will remain for the first weeks and even months"

"No, no, no, no" he said in denial, pacing in despair.

"If you wish, I can terminate its life for the good of the creature, for you and Agnes too. She don't even has to know, we'll tell her this one was already lost. Better end it now than allow the child grow in her heart, just to be taken from her later"

"I..I have to see him first"

"Go ahead then"

Mrs Sharpe had not awakened yet, her body weaken by the labor and the blood loss. Next to the bed, there was Nana holding the small bundle, she lifted a corner of the blanket for Mister Sharpe to see. He felt his heart beat out of him and then fell heavily into his chest after looking at the baby. The Master, Nana saw, looked like if he wanted to cry and yell, filled of pain like a stabbed animal, and full of rage like a madman. It scared her to the bone, but then a shadow of resignation covered his factions like the gray clouds hide the rays of sunlight. He walked backwards, still his eyes fixed on the tiny baby, his extremities so thin and the skin so pale, the veins could be seen through the closed eyelids. It was not an easy decision for him, this one had born alive, the other five where stillborn. He had made his mind already, but he still needed to see the child with his own eyes, looking for something that give him hope. He found nothing, the baby looked more dead than alive.

"Irving, please proceed" Doctor Randolph extended his arms toward Nana to receive the baby.

"NO!" They all where startled with the girl's scream.

She had listened in the antechamber, she had listened the word 'dead' and she knew what dead was. She had seen the moths and the spiders that stopped moving, those were dead and that meant nothing. The bird instead was a different thing. She had seen it fly trough the nursery window, she had closed it to avoid the bird to escape, but it had tried to get out, hitting against the glass again and again. It had finally fell on the floor and she picked it up. The furry body still warm, the feathers so soft, she hold it close to her cheeks and to her ear. She hold it until it moved no more, the little body got stiff and cold.

Everyone was looking at her as one may look an unexpected guest. The girl ran toward Nana to see the baby, but she did not get disconcerted by the tiny body.

"Don't take him away, please. He is my brother. Mine"

Mister Sharpe approached the child and kneel to be face to face with his daughter. He spoke composed, realizing that the child had found what he had not, because she already love the baby even before ever looking at him.

"He maybe not be with us for much long. It does not god to cling to false hope"

"I will take care of him, make him better. Please father, please"

"Child-"

"I didn't ask for any present, I won't ever"

"If he die..."

"He won't, I'll be with him. I just want to be with him"

It was the tear stained eyes than cleared the obfuscated man's heart.

"Will he be under your care then?" He relaxed his expression to appease his daughter distress.

"Uh Hum" she sniffed "yes, father"

"You cannot relinquish on your commitment once you have promised to it"

"No father, I'll never, I promise to care for him. I swear"

"Well then"

"Arthur, it is a frail baby, not a pet you can give to a child"

"He will live if so he had the strength, and if he pass away it won't be on my account"

"And when it happen, what will that do to the child?"

"You said there was a chance"

"Yes, I said so as well I say now-"

Mrs. Sharpe stirred, regaining consciousness. She saw everyone in the room, and Nana holding the bundled baby.

"My baby?" she asked. "Is he a boy?"

Nobody responded.

"Nana?"

"Is a boy Mistress"

"Show me" She commanded.

The doctor approached to the bed to check on her.

"You need to rest, regain your strength and you can tend your child tomorrow".

"But-"

"No buts, Nana will take care of him now. Nana will you see if Miss Adelaide is ready, we still has much to do and your Mistress sure need to rest".

Nana had not yet made it to the door, when the Mistress had said aloud

"Arthur!" Arthur Sharpe gave a questioning look to his wife, the she said "His name, I want his name to be Arthur like his father"

"Then Art-" The doctor was abruptly interrupted by Mister Sharpe.

"No", he had said. "I don't think that name is suitable for him".

He didn't said it aloud, but he'll will not pass his name into a child that cannot made him feel proud. He will save it for a strong, healthy child, able to continue the Sharpe lineage, like a heir must be. Not this one, he will not waste his name to be written on an early headstone, nor to be hidden in Allerdale Hall for a feeble child on mid or body that will grow in his mother wing, unable to stand for himself nonetheless defend the Sharpe family interests. He walked out of the room, taking Lucille with him.

"Come", he said, "let us leave your mother to rest"

"Please stay" Agnes had said to her husband.

He could not, but he needed not to voice it, the child served as scapegoat without intention.

"Tom, no.. Thomas!" Lucille had said.

"What?" her father inquired.

"Can we name him Thomas?"

Thomas was the perfect name in the girl's mind, like Tom Thumb. Her beloved brother, he was indeed her own Thomas Thumb, and she will love him unconditionally, she would loved him even if he had been born the size of her thumb.

"Then Thomas it is" her father said, never interrupting their way out of the room.

Agnes Sharpe observed the exchange in which father and daughter seemed profoundly involved, while leaving her without sign of acknowledgement.

She was in pain and her body was surrendering to the sedatives, her final thoughts wandering about why the girl was in her room and why had Arthur allowed the girl to choose her son's name. A boy at last, she always had thought that their marriage had went awry because of her inability to conceive a son for him. Finally she had succeed but, Will that be enough for her husband to stay more time at home, to not seek relieve in other women skirts. Will he loved her now? Exhaustion took his toll and she felt asleep, a dreamless sleep it was.

Adelaide had found the Master in the stairs, speaking with Doctor Randolph.

"It is late, you better stay for the night"

"I will"

"Adelaide, please"

"Oh, no need to show me the way. Adelaide is as tired as I am. And she had a newborn to tend to. I will change my clothes first, because we will have a long night ahead"

Adelaide addressed Mister Sharpe as the Doctor continued to the first

floor.

"Master, let me take the little Mistress"

"Go Lucille" Mister Sharpe said.

"How is... Did Abbott got the milk from the sheep?"

"Is already boiled sir, and Nana is feeding him. He doesn't suck very well, it drowns with just a bit, we are using a cotton ball to leak it in his mouth drop by drop. Poor child so small"

"I appreciate what you have done here, you and Nana too. I'll hire some help in the morning. Please send Doyle to my study as soon as you can"

"If I may speak Master..."

"Go ahead Adelaide, speak your mind"

"Doctor Randolph said the Mistress breasts have not yet milk to feed the child"

"That he has told me" Mister Sharpe responded.

"He may use a wet nurse"

"Do you know one"

"If I may speak, one of George Marriott sisters, she had a child and, maybe she can be of some help to breast feed the little one".

"Marriott the pub owner? He has three sister, hasn't he? Eve, Gertrude and... Anne...or it was Annette?"

"Annette, Master. The one that-"

"I won't allow a whore in this house" He said in a resolute tone.

"I'm sorry Master, it was not my intention to disrespect you" Adelaide said ashamed of bring her suggestion in the first place.

"She'll stay in the outer house, tell Jory to prepare the place. She must tell no one, do not speak of it, less in ear of your Mistress. She will use the chamber next to the kitchen out door and only that one to tend the child. She'll be provided food and roof for her and her child. Send Abbott for her in the morning and let me know when she is here, I'll speak the terms of payment with her. Any question?"

"No Master, I'll do as you told"

"I'd appreciate your discretion"

She nodded and took her leave to the nursery with Lucille by her hand.


	2. Relieving solitude

When Arthur Sharpe returned to the bedroom he found his wife asleep. Now in the calm after the storm he regretted everything. He has lost his temper and it was his son who had paid the consequences. His son, after all, after ten years. Ten years he had waited, tried, prayed, held hope, failed again and again. The guilt rested heavy on him, compressing his chest, making it difficult to breath. It was not fair, life was not fair, never had been for the Sharpes. He walked to the bed, leaving a tender kiss in his wife's forehead. When she was exhausted like that, one could said she looked helpless, but he knew her character as he knew there was something wicked in the woman disposition. He dropped himself on the antechamber couch after grabbing some stationary, ink and pen to write the letters Abbott will deliver in the morning to the Referral Office for hiring the new maids.

 _"Please do take care of the children, I'll attend Agnes myself",_ The Master had said to Nana and Adelaide, while standing on the kitchen. The lot looked tired, including Lucille who also displayed a sleepy face. It had been a long day, and it had not ended yet. The older women were grateful to be released of one of the charges, so they settled in the nursery taking turns to rest and carrying the child, dipping his lips with the milk to bribe him to nourish.

Little Lucille almost fell asleep nestled beside Adelaide, her hand caressing the baby trough the blanket, rubbing his back gently. When the sisters switched positions once more, Lucille stirred.

"Can I hold him?" She asked to Nana who was receiving the child in her arms.

"Well I think...' A thought had been taking root in her mind for the last twenty minutes. "I think we can try something different, to maintain this little one alive"

Adelaide straighten herself up, her back stiffed for the lack of proper rest. Proper rest at short term was out of the table. As things were developing, she was not sure if the mother was ready in strength or mind to take care for her newborn.

"Adelaide, remember little Travis?"

"The boy of Will Barron's first wife?"

"That one, the mother died in childbirth leaving the man alone with the boy in that harsh winter. Will himself carried the child under his shirt, he kept on walking the sheep everyday, with the child warm under his clothes. Abbott saw him more than once then. He said the boy was warm as a beating heart. The very same same doctor agreed it was the reason the boy had made it".

"Yes, but I don't think the Mistress-"

"No, not the Mistress, this one" She said pointing to Lucille.

"But she is just a child"

"Exactly, and she already loves him so much"

"Maybe she can give strength to her brother, maybe that's what he needs"

Adelaide was incredulous, "I.."

"Stop, don't say anything, let's give it a try" Nana will not take an opinion against in the matter, so far the boy was only getting weak, his body as cold as a snowflake. "Lucille dear, Can you stay very quite while holding him? He is too frail yet"

"Yes, Nana I won't move" She girl said, her senses awakening.

"I see, come here" Nana undressed the girl leaving her in underclothes.

The girl watched with curiosity while Nana set a pile with the pillows, accommodating it under her back. She was almost in sitting position, but it was comfy. Nana throw a blanket over her, followed by the bedspread. The baby was carefully slipped in under the covers and over Lucille's chest. The blanket that wrapped up the tiny body was removed just enough to allow his skin to may contact with his sister's bare chest. She could feel the warm of his body, the almost imperceptible rise and low of his breathing, and his heartbeat, a fainted pulsation but still a little faster than her own heartbeat. She hugged him carefully, and resumed the massaging of the baby's back.

The older housekeeper wrapped her up so no warm escaped from the bundle. Lucille's chin rested over the baby's head. In that moment, she felt blessed and doubted anyone else in the world could feel more alive, especially not any adult. She had asked for another child to made her company, to play with and be her friend, someone to be with her, just for her, as the woman on the story had wished for a son. She had spoken up aloud, kneeled next to her bed, both hands together as Miss Paige had showed her. While holding her little Thomas for real, she knew she has been listened.

When Nana had told that her mother was expecting a child she could not contain her emotion. Without thinking she had run when she heard the nursery's door opening. She had clung to her mother's dress in an attempt to hug her legs, and she hugged so hard. At first the mother was startled, about to demand explanations to her 3 years and a half old daughter. For once, her mother crusted demeanor softened after listening to the governess explanation, and then she tenderly hugged the girl. At last the child was there, with her, and he was perfect in her eyes. Two months ago she had wanted it to be a sister, but a boy as perfect as this will do more than fine. A knight, a prince, a noble gentleman, she had thought. She dreamed with swords brandished against dragons, and lovely dances until shoes wasted up, and dress up plays, and cookies broken by the half to share. He was born on her birthday, it was the best birthday present she could imagine. But the best was, that he was her little brother, hers literally. Father had given him to her, instead to allow the doctor to take him away. She had been bestowed to take care of him, not Nana, not Adelaide, not mother, her. And she will be there for him always, to love and to protect, and he will always love her. The pair had fell asleep, and after a while, when Nana tried again to feed the child she couldn't believe the outcome. She used a dropper, and the child lips moved to suck the milk, if faintly. He drank the whole content, the equivalent of a teaspoon, but still a huge advance. She tried again, the child accepting the milk.

"Adelaide, look" Nana told. Her sister awaken to see the boy.

"It's a miracle", Adelaida told in surprise.

"Indeed. I had hope and faith for this to work"

"The lord acts in mysterious and unexpected ways" Adelaide added.

"Dear child, dear child", Nana repeated, "this is a miracle of faith and love". She kissed Lucille's forehead. The girl opening her eyes in drowsiness followed by wonder when realized the motive of the celebration.

In the morning, Nana had made breakfast, but the Master, true to his word, had served and carried the tray himself, taking the task to see that his wife take the meal.

After the good doctor had checked on the boy and expressed satisfaction with his progress, Nana went to speak with the Master. Trying to spread her faith without success.

"Don't get so high expectations Nana. He is been alive for night, it doesn't mean the risk had passed." He was irritated, he had already dealt with his wife's morning indifference.

"But there is hope Master, you'll see"

"I'll see him later" He wanted to said _'There is always hope'_ as his mother used to say. But hope was something that wasn't always with him. He had lost it so many times, as so many times he had strayed his path and made mistakes.

Nana went to the room to pick up the tray, stopping in the antechamber in her way back. She stopped there, getting closer to the man standing like an insecure child.

"What?" He asked.

"The Mistress..?"

"What about her?"

"She wants to see the child"

He stood up, looking at her with hesitation. "Well then... tell Adelaide to bring the boy"

When he went back into the room, he was pleased that Agnes looked better despite of her attitude. Still, her inscrutable countenance gave little away.

"How do you feel?" He asked, just to test the grounds.

"Better", she said. Her expression void of any emotion.

"I sent request already for three new maids, to help Nana and Adelaide with the house and the children. They will be under your supervision. Please be kind to not dismiss them in a whim, because as much as Nana and her sister will die serving us without complaining, they are not physically as strong as they used to be. They cannot take care of everything".

She looked at him inspecting his body language, trying to decipher what he was not saying. A knock on the door. I was not closed, but Adelaide just wanted to announce herself. She advanced carrying the baby in her arms, and an extra pair of hands holding onto her skirt, moving with her like a shadow. She got closer, allowing the Mistress to see the child.

Agnes felt perturbed, she couldn't believed, she had seen the children she had birth dead, those where lifeless but fully formed. This one on the contrary... looked awkward, the head too big for the body, the body too meager, a rag doll of a child. His eyes where closed and swollen, and he did make a sound like a whimpering kitten, not a cry but definitely and expression of discomfort.

"Would you like to hold him Mistress?"

She would not dare, it looked awkward. She moved her head in rejection.

"Take it away, I don't want to-", _'look at him'_ she thought, but she didn't speak up that part.

Adelaide had took her leave, but Lucille remained in indignation.

"Thomas! His name is Thomas" She said aloud, and then ran away off the room to catch Adelaide.

Back in the nursery she cried and calmed herself, mopping her tears in her apron, asking Adelaide be allowed to hold his baby brother.

"Why she doesn't like him?, neither father"

"Don't say that child. The Masters are going trough difficult times and they are afraid the baby doesn't have the strength to keep on"

"But he does have it, I'm taking care of him", the girl insisted.

"Oh, that you do child, and you are an angel for that. You'll see, let him grow just a little and your mother and father will only have eyes for him"

"No, he is only mine, I love him from the beginning"

Again, they were both wrapped up, comfortably placed in the middle of the bed and surrounded by pillows.

"Will you two be fine if I'm going to get some more milk for Master Thomas?"

"We will, I won't move a single bit" She smiled, forgetting the coldness of her mother toward the baby.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

"Is that what you look for in other women's flesh, the proper son I can not provide you?"

"Don't be stupid woman" He tried to spoke calmly but there was already bad temper in his tone.

"I see now, why this one is not suitable to carry your name, a freak"

"He is not a freak, is just premature"

"It will not live much, will he?"

"He may as well. He could use HIS MOTHER care and concern, to help it"

"Will he be feeble of the mind?"

"If you have a point with this questioning, then I beg you to speak it plainly"

"Why did you spare him if is not good enough for you?"

"I didn't say-! I cannot take his live away, he was born alive!", _'unlike the others'_ he thought _._ He paced in circles around the room, _'Calm down, calm down'_ he repeated to himself without voicing the words.

"It is god's choice, not mine" He finally spoke in a more quiet tone.

"And it was... 'god's choice'... that you fucked the governess under my nose. NO, that was your choice. Then tell me whose choice it was that you beat me, causing the labor to end out of time. You are a beast! You are the sinner and you went against me for telling the truth on your bared face. I'm not the one in fault here, I did nothing, and you pretend I... What? Ignored your infidelity? Allowed her to stay? For how long Arthur, how many times? That boy as it is, dead or alive, stupid or sick, he is the punishment for your sins and I don't care, it is your fault. YOUR FAULT! Let him be a reminder of your shame."

"Stop it!"

"Or what? What else can you do to break me, that you haven't already!"

"You tempt me to act as I do with your every word! WHY?"

"Because I thought you could somehow get to love me as I loved you, but you never tried, never even tried, all this years. And god pray punish me if I ever let your filthy hands over my body again. You may lay with all the whores you want, but not under this roof, not as long as I live here. And don't you dare to breed any bastard child, for I will never allow any of them to set a foot in this house nor carry your name. If is for the boy to die, so it will be end of the Sharpe family name".

"Enough, Enough I said! You are poison, how can you expect any one to love you, you are but a selfish cruel woman".

"Then I'm glad to disappoint you again, for the only thing you have always wanted has been denied to you. Five dead sons and one like that, that's exactly what you deserve".

Before she ended her tirade he already had closed the space between them. The backhand was blown with enough force to imprint his weeding ring on her face, the Sharpe's family emblem was stamped on her right cheek.

"I'll made arrangements for you and the children, Irving will keep on checking the boy's health... and yours. The money won't be a worry, all the accounts are already covered. I'll leave the contacts in case-".

"So you are leaving" It was not a question.

"I'll leave in a few days, after check that everything is settled. I have to, or else I won't restrain for what I may do to you if you keep tantalizing me this way".

"Go, run away you coward!" She yelled between tears that had started to fall already.

He wanted to raise his closed fist against her, but he did not allow his rage to take control this time. He just wanted to put distance between himself and the venomous woman he had married.

It had been an arranged marriage, his father was then alive and had settled up with the father's bride. They where old acquaintances, not friends though. The Sharpes will mitigate their business losses, that hadn't been able to make it for the uprising costs of the house repairs. He had spoken to the old man, to sell the state and moved into the city, he can work as accountant there. He was not build for the mining hardships, and there where only the two of them after his mother had passed away. But the man will hear none about that, Allerdale was to be tended by the Sharpes. He won't sell it, nor leaving under the care of a third. Arthur didn't want to trouble his father, as the man was already sick. The only son of Jacob and Louise Sharpe had born when her parents where in advanced age, and so he knew he will lose them early. Still he was not prepared for it. He loved them both, the old man deeply. He had agreed to his father proposal, he will made the man proud and take his place as Master of the state. After all, maybe things could change for better with a family of his own by his side.

Mr. William Graeme was pleased to give his oldest daughter into other man's charge, as he was himself ill in a terminal state. She had tended him, giving away her dreams, and it was time for him to ensure she will be cared after he died. Seven daughters, six them had married in the bloom of womanhood, but the first one remained untouched. The years had not been gentle on her, she conducted herself with a sharp demeanor, and old virgin like a wasted soil.

Arthur had been 25, a young stallion in the paramount of life, she had been almost ten years older, the difference was notable in energy and experience. Unusual indeed. He married a woman, but still she blushed like a teenager loosing her virginity in her wedding night. He accepted the proof, but despite of it, a brisk of uncertainty had always remained in his very deep thoughts. she was not angelical beauty, but she was not ugly either, just a little plain and vapid he would said.

When she flourished from child to youth, she had been laid with a heavy burden. She had practically raised her three younger sisters, the last born when she was 15 causing the mother death. Her family was not over wealthy, but they were wealthy enough. Without will nor official statement, the teen inherited the responsibility of the house, the maids, a baby, two toddlers and three girls mourning their mother on their own way, while his father was on the family parcel tending the business.

The Graeme parcel was laborious, located far at the west of the Lakes while the family lived on Carlisle. Agnes father had spend more time on the country after his wife's death. He said he could see her wife's ghost in the dark corners of the house. They had move from the city three years later, and then the man got obsessed in presenting his daughters on society, so they young ladies could caught the interest of good prospectors. Finally, when the age, the tobacco and the chemicals used in the mining process took his lungs, he feared for the future of his first daughter. He had sold the land, using no small part of the money to invest on fulfill his last wish. To ensure none of his daughters be left unattended after he passed away. He granted a not modest dowry for Agnes, to make the bride more desirable. He was glad a good arrangement had been settled, the fiance Arthur E. Sharpe, was heir of Allerdale state, educated and able enough to provide for his future wife. His father, Jacob Sharpe, has been known an honest man, true to his word, not always luck for the businesses, but always in dearest love for his family.

Arthur married following his father advice. Even knowing the comments that circulated about 'the old virgin' as she was so-called in the more private social gatherings, the kind that involved respectable gentlemen being delighted by paid female entertainment. Arthur and Irving had ended up entangled in such environments in a few occasions. Then they had listen the story in which the father was the one that had turned down the girl suitors, because of all his daughters the first one was the lively image of her mother. The father treasured her dearly and looked at her with more that fatherly eyes. When liquor consumption affected young men's minds, it was also said that the father's sin had taken root in the girl at early age, but the proof had been removed leaving her infertile, and so the old degenerate has been able to proceed his ways. What of that had been truth or made up it didn't matter to Arthur. He had not married in love, but he had been pure lust nonetheless. He enjoyed to have a woman to appease his needs, as frequent as they arisen. He filled her incessantly, and when she got pregnant on the first year of marriage he was elated, procuring all the attentions to his wife. The drunken men talk had been more than forgotten, and Arthur had turn fists up against anyone who dared to spoke ill of his wife. Even Irving had got a broken nose once. At least on that, he had never retreated.

But sex was not all in a marriage, and time and dead filled both souls with pain an resentment. He had got drunk and sometimes he had beaten her. If not so frequent, it was usually hard enough to leave her indisposed for a few days, wailing in pain and shame. At the beginning, she lowered her head. And no matter what, she always allowed him in her body, as it was her duty, sometimes, needy, others painful, some pure lust. She accepted to be isolated in that horrid manor, a prisoner without bars and manacles. She grew tired of the failure and disappointment, he was stubborn and immature, and she failed in trying to conceive a child. Five times she new the pain of loss. Her heart grew cold, her body stiff, her mood sour, and her tongue surly. Her patient extinguished as puddles dried by the sun. Not even a drop was left for her daughter.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

Lucille watched the carriage move away with her father on it. In the past it had caused her anguish, but not anymore. Now she had Thomas, and she cannot be childish because it was her responsibility, she told herself so. She was a child, but she was far from childish. Mister Sharpe had noticed so, maybe because she was mostly by herself, no other children to play, surrounded by adults. He had been only child too, but there were different times then. He had noticed also that Agnes was not overly affectionate with the child, as if she deeply regretted it was a girl. Lucille was nonetheless his firstborn child, and so she will become a properly educated lady. He had set his mind into send her to a boarding school when she reached the age of eight. There she will be teach manners, religion, language, reading, writing, knitting and painting. Meanwhile, he will allocate a new governess or a tutor, an older woman or a man, to avoid his wife insecurities to manifest shamefully. But now, those things will have to wait, as only time could help them all. For him, to be in peace with his mind, for Agnes to regain her mental sanity and appease her nerves, for the girl to grow more, and for the boy to be. Just to be alive and healthy, Was it much to ask for? Whatever destiny had in plan for the Sharpes, only time would tell. He was not escaping, he would be of no help if staying, on the contrary. Until his return he would be restless everyday, afraid to find a letter informing his the worst. The Lord knew he had no the strength to bury another son. Lucille climbed off from the window, settling herself next to the baby. Her eyes brighten when she looked at him. She new it won't be easy to care for the baby, but she was determined.

The winter was soon to come and the weather can be harsh. Sometimes the roads became impassable, leaving the state in isolation. Agnes knew December will come an gone, no parties nor celebrations in Allerdale Hall. Nana will hang some decorations to cheer up the mood, specially in the nursery. She had told so while tending to the Mistress, _"We should lift up our spirits Mistress, after all this is going to be the baby's first Christmas"_. But her Mistress was not in favor, she had say that it may also be the last baby's Christmas, and it didn't made sense to lift up the girls hopes just to break her heart when fate decided so. And it will, she was sure of that, after all hadn't she been thrilled when she had stepped in Allerdale Hall as Mister Arthur Sharpe's wife? But that rotten place, it digested its inhabitants like a giant fly, trapping its prays in his innards, sucking the life of them slowly and unnoticed. That's was how she felt. While Arthur traveled getting free of the house yoke, she was condemned to remain there, alone, and when he at last returned it was not better.

She remembered how she used to wait expectantly for the letter informing the that her husband will return to the state. She had hurried the maids to prepare everything that will ensure him a pleasurable reception. The main hall was cleaned up, and all the dirt was shaken from the stairs frames, a fine meal with all the courses prepared to be served in the dining hall. She bathed in scented oils of lavender or sandalwood, the ones that had been given to her as one of her wedding presents. She remembered how, her carefully planned romantic night had been reduced to a rough intercourse, no foreplay, no intimacy, no cuddling. She had cried herself to sleep alone in the huge bed, after her husband had walked out to the study to prepare documents regarding the management of the state or the mining labors. In her mind, childish illusions had no place. Yes, she and Arthur had have their good times, in which they had let loose their desires and needs, he had ravaged all the senses of her body and she had shuddered on the verge of a paroxysm. Those moment she still treasured, but they were a pure expression of the animal human nature, all physical, not built up from their emotions, or in many cases impulsed only by rage. Fairy tales, romance, love, were not but utopias and lies, and so she was determined to not encourage that nonsense in her daughters' mind.

She had noticed the advocacy the little girl demonstrated toward the baby. Poor Lucille will learn about broken dreams on the hardest way, when the infant died. Life was not fair, was it? It would be better to learn that at an early age. Especially because it was even harder when one have been born a female. She was not senseless, but she had prayed for the lord to take the child if he was destined to be no more that a burden. Of that she had already enough, almost all her life. But then she though, if the boy improves it will be a good omen, and he may be able to grow in good health. Maybe her heart was not completely locked and it may allow some joy from her children, for her children.

For the little Sharpe Masters, it was good that their mother wasn't interested in frequenting the nursery. Agnes had stopped to do so after her fifth loss. She had invested so much time and effort in preparing that place for her first baby. The labor started with normalcy, but extended too much. When the baby finally arrived it was already dead. A second one was conceived in short notice, increasing the risk of a premature delivery. On the seventh month, the labor had started one morning, and by night she was crying another dead boy. Nine years of marriage and five stillborn, each one took his toll in Agnes health and sanity. Nine years in that old house, her husband distancing more and more. There was also the blame, they both put the blame in each other shoulders, a barren woman, and uncaring husband, and of course it was also the house. The house borne her secrets, her pains, her moments of joy nobody else had witnessed. It nurtured itself from all that happened to them, stealing their happiness and rejoicing on tragedy. Still, it was in was in Allerdale Hall where she had fell in love for Arthur.

Arthur and Agnes had meet each other as young in more than one occasion, when their parents had attended to society parties. The first time she had seen him, he was but an eight years old child, sneaking under the table to steal the wine in a Christmas reception a Bolton & Barnes Investments. She had noticed the child with curiosity and he had dared to ask her to dance, as if she will dance with a child, less one that obviously had taken alcohol for the first time in his live and was clumsy and grinning. She sure had laughed, when his father pull him by the ear out of the hall. The second time, he was fifteen and he sure had put his eyes on Agnes younger sisters, who contrary to Agnes had demonstrated interest in mingling with the marriageable young gentlemen. The third time she remembered it in great detail, it has been in Allerdale Hall.

At twenty, Arthur was far grown from a foolish child, and he looked much older and mature, even if he truly wasn't. His voice was deep, his body fit and tall, strong built, deep dark hair and gray eyes than watched the young women with lascivious interest. He had danced with her. He had bet to dance with every woman in the party, and he had done so. At first, Agnes had not paid attention to him i particular, but sure she had notice that the young man got a lot of attention from some of the ladies. She was startled when he offered his hand, asking her to dance. He had nodded, not sure she can articulate a response. He had hold her in strong arms and guided her with security on the dance floor. His twirls making her feel as she was floating over the clouds. His eyes brighten and he looked only at her while they danced. He thanked her bowing his head with a tricky smile, but he changed his mind when he saw two young girls approaching to him with giggles. To avoid the pair he extended Agnes an invitation to see the night sky in the terrace. It was a night without moon, specially suitable for star-gazing. He had been a gentleman, speaking kindly and pointing at the constellations for her. They talked for a while feeling comfortable with each other. When they returned to the hall, he thanked for her company and kissed the back of her hand. She never had received that kind of attention before. The rest of the night he spent it chatting with his friends and other acquaintances, and she spent it listening to void women's conversations while trying to pass unnoticed in her furtive glances toward Arthur Edward Sharpe.

She will never have guessed that she will married him one day. Neither that she will stand on the same hall where they had danced, and he will offered his hand to her in a very different way. She barely remember the discussion that preceded, except that she had been insistent in traveling with him. He had denied for a thousand time. They had been married for almost a year, and it didn't make sense for her that he will travel to France alone, spending the next two months by himself. They could travel together, after all, they had not taken a proper honeymoon, and wouldn't be lovely to spend a couple of days together in the city of Paris. It was a business trip, he had said. Unfortunately, Agnes' mood had been swinging between extremes on that week, finally exposing her fears and doubts in an accusatory way. In a blind moment of rage, he had raised his hand against her for the first time.

It had been the house the silent witness, of her first split lip and the many that follow, of her tears spilling out while the taste of blood lingered on her mouth, of how Arthur had took here by force right after beating her. A few days later she had felt indisposed and the doctor had been called, an old friend of Arthur. He congratulated her husband, for she was at least three months advanced in her pregnancy. The travel had been postponed, and her husband had been again the man she had fell in love.

While things changed for good or bad, the manor had been the only constant in Agnes new life as Mrs. Sharpe. Always remaining, ready for witness another generation of Sharpes to suffer under its rotten walls. She believed the house was alive, it breathed and sensed all that happened in his grounds, and she felt terrified, living in the monster's belly. Sometimes, she wished it to sink deep into the grounds, burying all the memories with it.

She avoided the third floor because it make her soul gloomy. The place where she had spent so much devotion, only to remain empty and empty again. Then the girl had born and took possession of the place. It didn't feel right for Agnes, it was no place for her. There, were she had make up so many scenarios, memories that will never came to be. She had cried there, a lot, it had been her safe place. Five times Arthur had left her to grieve alone, and five times she had secluded herself there. The maids tried to convince her out, but they had given up and delivered her meals there. The nursery was a stolen sanctuary, and her heart couldn't find joy in the girl she was allowed to birth alive. She was an intruder in her life, staining the lovely furniture and cushions with her little dirty hands, taking was it must had been for her baby boys. While Lucille repeated the same pray for fourth time she had peaked on the cradle to see a little bald head with closed eyes. The boy had gained some weight, still his body was lean and meager, the clothes fitted too big. She tried to have some hope for the child wellness, maybe he still will be able to bring her some redemption in her husband eyes. Even though, it had not arisen in her the desire to interact with the boy, she didn't want to hold it, so she left the room after briefly addressing her daughter.

The doctor had told Nana it was normal, most woman can be depressive after childbirth, rejecting the child for a while. The old maid had thought that was one of those luxuries that only wealthy people could afford. Her mother, for example, had birth eight children, and when you have a bunch if kids to tend, with a full pregnant belly, a pile of clothes to wash to help an extra penny for your family, and a husband that work from dusk to dawn and came back home with a sore back, cracked lips, and splinters on his feet, well it is difficult to find time to seat and rest, even less to get depressive for anything. But then again, it was not her place to voice her opinion, and that was the reason she had been able to made a long live under the roof of Allerdale Hall.

Mister Sharpe didn't came home for Christmas, and that unsettled the Mistress as well. No matter how long her husband was apart or how decadent their relation had turned, he never had been absent during Christmas. He always had returned with presents for her and even for the oldest housekeepers. Since Lucille was born, he always had bring presents and sweets to spoil the child. It was had been a cold winter, and the kids remained in the nursery to keep them as warm as possible. She had seen them once a week. She has been there briefly. Checking on the girl mostly. She has been teaching her prayers and make the child repeat to memorize them. For Lucille it was more like a penance. Her mother went mad and make her repeat all again from the beginning if she made any mistake.

"Enough of this Lucille, it is clear you are not putting enough effort to learn"

"I cannot remember all the words, mother" The girl pleaded.

"Come with me, now" She ordered.

But the girl resisted, unwilling to leave her brother behind. Her mother pulled her up by the shoulder.

"No. Thomas!" Again Lucille objected, trying to make physical resistance.

"Oh, no, you will not make tantrum, and I'm not your father to tolerate it"

The quarrel ended will Lucille sobbing in a corner of the second floor bathroom, stood up against the wall, facing to the tiles, repeating the sentences her mother spoke aloud, again and again, while mother took a bath.

For two hours after her mother had finished, she didn't dared to move. The child had been forgotten. Two hours later, Nana finally came to take her to the nursery. It was cold and Nana placed her in front of the heating. She had ate the bowl of hot soup voraciously. After that, she had asked her to wrap Thomas with her.

"He must be cold too, all noon alone".

"Not alone child, I myself tended him. He had ate twice and even made a little flurry"

"Did he?" She asked, excitement blinking trough big open eyes.

"Oh, yes he did. Didn't you Master Thomas? He will have everyone in this house chasing after him in no time"

"Not mother"

"Dear child, I won't bet money on that, she used to be more lively and happier before"

"Before what?"

"Oh, nothing. Old woman nonsense. Won't you like your mother to be running all over the house behind a smelly boy who throw his toys all around Allerdale Hall? Wouldn't that be funny?

"She will get mad and punish Thomas, I won't allow it"

"Little one, so young and your head so troubled already. That is not right. I tell you what, she is teaching you the prayers, right?"

"Uhumm" She exhaled hopeless, it wasn't the prayer she hated, it was the teaching methods. Miss Paige instead had been patient and made rhymes for her to remember.

"Well you may try to pray for her then, the lord always listen the children's prayers"

Lucille could agree with that last part, but she was getting drowsy and responded only with an involuntary yawn.

"I see is time for you to sleep" Nana stated.

"Leave Thomas please"

"Oh well, but you don't-"

"I won't roll over Nana"

"And I believe you child. I 'll be back in two hours with the Master's milk"

"Humm.." She was asleep in no time.


	3. Old ghosts

When the Master had finally returned, the solitude of Allerdale state had been replaced by the noises of the workers settling in the Easter side. He had reached the house by night, after spend the day in the clay mines. The maids had been lined up by Nana, Lucille stood up next to Adelaide holding her hand. Thomas was now more fitting to pass as a newborn child, his eyes opened, showing two marbles of blueish translucent crystal. Irving Randolph had arrived at the manor earlier that day. He had been in observance of the boy and the mother's health, visiting regularly. And finally, Ms Agnes Cecile Sharpe, she waited until the carriage stopped to make presence at the main gate. She had well learned to maintain the appearances and pose as a devoted wife in front of others. Only the housekeepers and Doctor Randolph, knew the real exchanges that occurred between the respectable Mister Arthur E. Sharpe and his 'devoted' wife.

The Master had walked as usually, handed his hat and gloves to Nana, then stepped in front of Lucille who was looking forward to run into her father's arms, barely holding back her desires.

"Father!?" She said, half exclamation, half question.

His father's face relaxed a little bit and he hold the child up by her armpits. She embraced him so hard and kissed on his cheek, a low beard starting to cover his face.

"I missed you father"

"Well, I'm glad to see how well you are little lady"

Then he placed her again on the floor, and set his gaze over the baby in Adelaide's arm. She raised the blanket that protected the baby from the evening wind. The Master saw the child and nodded. Adelaida wrapped her precious cargo and watched the Master continue to greet Doctor Randolph. Both shake hands as old friends do, and walked to the house side by side. At the main door Agnes stood with a proudly stance, scrutinizing Arthur interactions with his son and daughter. He lowered himself toward her, leaving a kiss on her cheek, and tended his arm to her. She hold it and they entered the house as a man and wife shall be. The dinner was set on the big dinning room, the new foreman of the mine was also invited, he had arrived a minutes later.

The big table had feel too big for Lucille, used as she was to have her meals on the nursery or the kitchen table in very rare occasions. She played with her vegetables on her plate, because she was also accustomed to simpler victuals. The talk wandered about working, the mine operations, personal hired, the clay market and buyers. Eventually, it turned to more familiar topics, like the house. This was motivated by the curiosity of Mister William Nort, and his admiration for _"such and exquisite architectural monument"_. Arthur Sharpe elongated a whole explanation of Allerdale acquirement by his great great great grandfather, who brought the manor into life, literally. It has been his lifetime task and greatest accomplishment, some claimed he had get obsessed to the point of madness, others said the manor was indeed alive, and had taken the soul of its creator. Lucille was about to feel asleep on the table, when the man asked about her and _"such a playground must it be the manor for the little lady"_. That shook away the fatigue from her eyes.

"She is a very active girl, and some areas of the house aren't optimal for a child of her age, but the nursery is more than suitable for the children needs" Agnes was fast to point out.

"I have two girls myself, twins, they are eight years old. And two boys two, five and three. It's them and my wife Joan, that make all the hardships of live worthy"

Mr. Nort was very different than Arthur Sharpe or Irving Randolph, even if similar in age. His skin was tanned by the sun, and his complexion more muscular and compact. A man build in the labor of workday. Not a scholar definitely, but still a man with manners and good taste for art, a fair share of mundane and exotic knowledge. As a young lad of fourteen and a third son, he had travel looking for fortune far from home. He had worked in the China clay mines in Cornwall, and he had returned to his parents house ten years later in the notice of his mother sickness. She had get better, but he had been spellbound by a young woman. He married and settled, getting to work in the Lakes mines where he can be closer from home.

At last, the conversation diverted from the family topic into politics. Lucille had noticed her father has not asked about Thomas, her mother has not mention him either. By the time they had finish dinner and proceed to the hall to take the tea, Lucille was fascinated with a wooden harlequin her father had bring her as a present.

"What did you bring for Thomas father?" She had asked her father, a piece of candy in her mouth. She was not sure if she wanted to know the answer.

He had been in a toy shop, he usually didn't have business in those establishments. He always asked Miles to go find some nice present for a girl, like a nice doll with a gown, but he never had go picked it himself. He had do it only once, for Agnes first pregnancy he had bought a wooden nightingale, it was a mobile to hang over the baby's crib, with a thread in his belly. When pulled, it turned the complete set into motion, as if the bird wings fluttered. It was his second time then and he stood in the store mesmerized by the assortment of toys. The salesman showed him a music box, beautifully carved and painted with circus themed scenes on the sides. The top, the man had said is was plain so they can add any inscription the buyer wanted, most order a carving of a family shield or a poem. The box disappeared from his eyes and instead it was the girl, insisting in her question to be asked.

"Tomorrow child, now it is bedtime for you. Agnes"

The mother took the girl hand and ordered her to say goodnight to her father and the guests. She walked her to the nursery though the child was handed to Adelaide at the door. She didn't went in nor tugged Lucille at bed nor kissed her nor Thomas good night. Lucille didn't expected any of this, of course she didn't miss something she never had. Her mother was not a kisser, but she didn't had a comparison point, so life was at it was, perfectly normal in her eyes.

Agnes had played the piano to entertain the guests, and after Mr. Nort had left, Mister Sharpe had excused himself to the studio to speak in private with Doctor Randolph.

"You took a while this time" Irving said to his friend, the relaxed factions he had displayed during the dinner were now shifting to show concern.

"I had things to attend Irving, but I didn't want to speak with you about my travel, even less be interrogated about it. So tell me how things have been here in my absence"

"Are you meaning your wife health or the boy's health"

"I entrusted you both and you conceded" Arthur said, his tone sternly.

"And I kept my promise Arthur, but your absence only deteriorates Agnes' state, she is insecure as always had been, and retreated to herself when you left her like that"

"Speak straight, I beg you"

"No, I'm the one begging you Arthur. I never favored this union, you married without love and her with too much illusions. You pushed her away too much, I told you it will do not good the first time, any one can loose its mind being alone in this place, it is creepy at the least. More for a mother mourning her first child, and after that how many times. You always escape your problems, but the problems don't disappear, they remains right here, waiting for you"

"Are you taking now to scold me as if I were a child"

"Oh, Jesus Christ Arthur, when will you understand, this is not about you"

"You decided for the boy to be and you left anyway"

"You said..., you threw my hopes to the fire"

"I know what I said, and I cannot be more sorry, I judged based on experience. I was afraid to give you false hope, only to break your heart if the boy didn't survive, you couldn't managed"

"No I couldn't, That's why I left!"

"And how was that fair to him, to your wife? The only one blessed in this house is the little girl. She is too young but doing what her mother is not, caring for the boy. You want to know about the boy's health, well ask your daughter then, that I do every time I came. I had been here twice a month, to check on him, it has been difficult for him, for the ones taking care of him, those women are angels too. And at last, he is growing surprisingly good. I'm convinced he will be healthy, still he is quiet and looks unfocused, but never when he is with the girl. It is her I'm sure, the reason of the boy improvement, she has keep his brother alive, I don't not how, a miracle I would be inclined to think. The mother on the contrary, she erased the whole incident from her mind. I have asked her, but she acts as if it didn't happened, your dispute, the birth included. If you want to really do something for her, for your family, then be with her, with them, as a family should. Go see your boy, give him a chance, I think he may grow to be the heir that you were waiting for, and if not let him at least grow in his parents heart. Make Agnes realize that they need each other, they could be each other cure and strength, instead they are both strangers in the same house. She would not acknowledge him until you do it first"

Arthur was now in immersed in deep thinking, his mind wandering in his own labyrinth, his walls made of things done that cannot be changed back, of broken dreams and reality, and mistakes committed to appease nature desires, in love and what love was not, in what he had at last and what he had lost. He took a profound breath, and stepped up to face his friend.

"Its that all?" He asked, not allowing his worries to be exposed

"It's that, Arthur"

"Jory will drive you back"

The doctor retreated as a defeated warrior.

"At least think about it Arthur, it is not my interest to give you ill advice"

But he had, and for that he was ashamed, maybe if he himself had been more hopeful about the boy, maybe his friend had stayed. He remembered the words he had spoken to Arthur before he had left, _"Had hope my friend, but don't let hope deceive you. This is a battle more lost than won"_. That had been three days after the child had born. The mother had not spoken a word to anyone after Arthur had made his leave statement. The boy had been feeding barely enough to hold into life, but it was not enough he knew, still the nursery was a fort, in which the maids and the girl were dealing a battle for the child survival. He had looked better for moments, just to fade again after some hours, while the nourishment helped him, the effort the tiny body put on it make him unable to do it again frequently.

The first month was like that, he had stayed in Allerdale the first two weeks, then he had left and returned to find the women tending the child in such an exhaustion state. A wet nurse had been fetch but the boy rejected it, to small to grab to the woman nipples, and when put to it, he didn't suck. There were moments in which he, as a Physycian, had gave up, several of them indeed. How they where to keep alive a child that didn't feed by himself. Yes, he was still there, and better, but for how long. Now Agnes, that was entirely a different problem.

She had isolated herself, only interacting with the new maids. She didn't leave the room at first, and when finally she had spoke to him, she spoke about a different time, one in which her marriage was young and she had aspirations of make a palace of Allerdale Hall. In her made up world there were no children, no nursery. _"Rats"_ she had said, _"the attic is infested, they made noises with their little hands and feet, they chant their squeaks like giggles, they keep me awake during the night"_. She had asked Jory to buy poison to get rid of the pesters. Irving had thought it was madness. _"Arthur never liked the rats, but they are difficult to avoid in an old house like this one. Old houses has secrets no one shall know. You cannot avoid them, but we can control them, make them still, silent. I know how"_. He had been afraid of her way of speak, the stare blank as if speaking with herself. He worried for what the woman can do to herself or to the children. He felt helpless while the two souls vanished each passing day and finally he had written his friend to please return with urgency. He had asked permission to take Agnes into a mental institution, it will do her well to heal her mind out of Allerdale Hall. The boy he suggested his relocation to the Keswick 's Hospital, if he survived the trip he had more opportunities there. He required Arthur signature for this endeavors, and also it was too much for the girl to bear alone, so he had asked, not, pleaded for his presence, after all if he wanted to see his boy again, it was probably his only chance. After a month, Arthur had responded nonsense, his wife was not insane or mad, he had assure, he could give faith on their manipulative attempts. For the boy, he must remain, he will not curse his family taking the child to die far from Allerdale, if the imminent came, he wrote instructions to set the body in the family burial grounds. Irving was most disconcerted about his friend instructions, he was stubborn, he knew, but to dismiss his family opportunities based in ill judgement, cowardice and superstition, that was to much for him to witness. He had left Allerdale, only visiting each second week. He had prayed too, he and his wife Emma, they had raised their prays for the inhabitants of the manor, their fate was in gods hands and in gods hand only.

The winter was settling his coldness and the boy won't make if he catch a sickness, its body only living each day by day. He had suggested to pump the milk from the woman breast and feed the child by hand. That have done the trick, he gained weight so slowly, one step forward, two backward. But when February had arrived the difference could be seen, and the effort invested on the child had finally paid fruits. They had established a routine and stick to it. The seasonal change also seemed to has a positive effect in Agnes Sharpe mood and serenity, still she did not acknowledge the infant.

Irving had only tried to protect Arthur for another painful loss, but who would predicted the outcome. Now he felt like part responsible of the wreckage that the Sharpe family was spinning toward.

"I want to offer myself as the boy caretaker if anything, I will take responsibility for the raising of the boy if you deemed him a charge"

"No, he must remain here as my family is" His voice left no place for doubts.

"That excludes you of course"

"Enough Irving, you don't, won't... understand"

"What is there to understand? That you have condemned your own blood to madness. In this house, it is all that's left for them. My recommendations are still standing, both of them"

"Please begone, I won't repeat myself as politely"

"Arthur reconsider"

The stiffed expression tell him that not only the discussion had come to an end, but their friendship had not remained untainted from such an exchange.

"I'm not giving up on you Arthur"

"You have done more than enough"

"I will come in a couple of weeks to check upon the child and Agnes, but you can send for me if-"

"That will not be necessary"

The doctor walked out and Arthur stayed, this was not the way he expected things to happen, but many things had happened in the time he had gone. For once, he had send a tracker after the young governess to be sure she will not act against the Sharpes interests. After three months and a half, news had arrived she had spent the last three months secluded in a Coventry. On the second month it was discovered her health was compromised with a pregnancy. She had died one month later as a consequence of a miscarriage. The stillborn sex could not be identified because it was not older that three months, the midwife had said. The incident had been managed with secrecy by the sisters of the Coventry, they didn't want a scandal which would only damage the relatives name and the order reputation. Arthur was sure it had been a boy, another he had lost.

This new he received in France were he owned a cottage, not far from Lyon. There was a farm he helped to manage for his uncle Edmund Hertford, his mother's older brother. The man was old, never married and not children to claim. Arthur would be the one to inherit the Hertford properties, which extended more than three times the size of Allerdale in fertile and productive land in the French countryside. The man has an eye for business, and he not only produced but processed some of the goods, making a better income from the goat cheese and some varieties of jams. So far, the business was more than productive and his uncle bestowed him a regular income for his labor managing the operations while he was in charge of the sales. Still it was not enough to compensate the deficit that Allerdale generated. The clay mine had always been sustainable, but it was becoming less productive with the time. The eastern side was more and more difficult to work on with the draining of liquid clay that was filling the digging place. They had tried to contain it without success. If the clay earnings payed for its production plus the living expenses of the state inhabitants, it didn't pay for the manor maintenance. This was the first thing that had to adjust to the budget, but the consequences in the structure had started to become more evident, he'll inspect that himself to assets the new damages. But the house was the less of his troubles. He would never accepted but Agnes was right, the house was cursed, stained with cursed blood, and he new from an early age that he had destined to die in that house as he had born in the house himself. So the boy was alive and it was his destiny to become Master of Allerdale too. And that leaved him with what? He wasn't sure, probably he was just holding onto lies? but he wanted so badly those lies to be true.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

He was tired and angry and sad, even confused, all at the same time. He was not good dealing with so many emotions at once. When he retired to his room he was not expecting to find Agnes awake, but she was. She served him a glass of wine which he drank in one gulp. She left her robe fall to the floor, showing her nudity. _'Such a whore'_ , he thought _'and this was the women ho had swore not to give herself to me again'_. He lift her head pushing her chin up, holding her with force. _"Too much of the isolated, damaged woman without control of her own thoughts that Irving described, Uh"._

"Well, well, Aren't you the lascivious one?" He spoke with disdain.

"Is that what you like, or should I play the innocent virgin? The response was stated in a matching tone.

"Don't be stupid, you maybe had been a virgin when I take you the first time, but innocent you never has been dear" Ire had already settled on him, it just need a push to show off.

"You are restless, I can tell"

"Now you know what I need?" Arrogance. Was it truly the best he could came with?

He had think about what had happened, he had thought which was the best way to proceed. He had hope she had dropped off the incident, as she always had done in the past. _'Only a coward disregard his faults'_ , his father had told him once. Still he couldn't avoid to use his wife as rag to clean the stains of his hands, and throw her to a side after finish. His mother will be ashamed of him, she has loved him so much, as he has she. But his dark desires knew no shame and she had died aware of that, wondering herself why. It was not her fault, as it was not his father's fault the twisted inclinations he had inherited as well.

"I know exactly what you need" She tried to entice him.

"And what that would be...?". _'Two can play this game'_ he thought.

"To forget" She now was holding both his hands, guiding them over her body.

He had already lost, and he regretted every instant he was falling to his darkest desires. His mouth ran over her neck, to her breast, not tender nor swollen anymore. She had denied to breastfeed the child, he knew it, but dismissed the thought from his mind. Soon there was nothing, just emptiness filled by sensations running through his body. He lost himself in the exchange, and he knew he needed it as much as he tried to deny it to himself. And he also knew he would not find another woman that took with pleasure what he did to her, that pleasured herself in the threshold of pain that he imparted in his own ecstasy. She will go to hell and drag him to the same pit with her, and he was sure the devil was its hand well played in Allerdale Hall, the house will sink deeper into hell itself, dragging all the souls the manor had claimed with it, of the death and the lives as well.

In the aftermath they just laid, him on his back, her cuddled at his side, her arms wrapped around his chest.

"I missed you" She said. He stared at the ceiling, lost in his inner thoughts again.

"The boy" He said.

"What boy?"

"Your son"

"Our son" She corrected him.

"Our son" He repeated.

"What with him?"

"Are you tending to him?" He asked, but he already knew the answer.

"As much as it requires my attentions"

"Which is?"

"Will you stay this time, for him?"

"I have business to care overseas and I cannot stay here all the time. You have always known it, I don't understand why you still have to make a trauma of it every single time"

"Because you never allow me to go with you"

"This, again. I've told you thousand times, it's not suitable for a lady"

"So, Am I a lady now?"

"You are my wife, and you must behave like that. It'll do well to you if you obey me for a change". He left an intentional silence to let this words settle in his wife's mind. "So the child... Is this a revenge you are throwing against me?"

"No" She sounded like a culprit telling a lie in a police interrogation, bored to be asked the same again and again by a stupid detective who only hoped to get contradictory responses from the suspect.

"Then be his mother for god's sake. Will you?" His tone was not agitated, nor angry, nor cynical, more likely despondent. He had drained his contented energy and rage in his wife's body, and as usually, the moments that followed were the ones he can achieve most clarity of his mind.

"Will you at least pretend he is not a disappointment to you?"

"He is not. I just wasn't ready to lost another one" Regret. He can be a decent man to his wife, eventually.

"And I was?" Tears now spilled from her eyes.

"I blamed myself, for his state, for yours, for being weak and disrespect you under our own roof and for that I apologize". He looked truly repentant.

She knew that below the measured man he showed to the rest of the world, below the irascible and violent man that he was to her frequently, even below who he was when he was alone, no one to show off, to convince or to dominate, there was only a heart broken child, incapable of love like a man, afraid to commit. She'll never knew why.

He was sit in upright position, and the truth was slipping raw from his mouth. He petted her tangled hair and comforted her in his arms. If things could always be fixed like that, moments like that one were blessings in his convoluted life.

"I tell you what, why don't we go to town tomorrow, just the two of us, as we used to" He knew by now that he can broke her into submission, but he cannot forced her to care for the boy. That should born in her.

Her eyes sparkled he could swear it. Yes, he though, for now he'll follow advice. He will fix things with Agnes, for the children, for her, for him. He will fix things with Irving too, a letter will do.

"I would like that" Out of Allerdale Hall for a day, mixing between normal people, pretending they were normal people, she should do that for a change.

"Then is settled" He continued massaging her and she had felt asleep in his arms, then he put her on the pillow softly, and take his leave from the shared bedroom.

The house was quiet and filled with darkness. He had made his way trough the stairs holding only a candle. He had gone barefoot and shirtless, the wind chilling his skin. The hole on the roof allowing the currents to flow free in the main hall. He wandered his path to the third floor, and stepped in front of nursery door, he could swear he was been observed, the candlelight illuminating the hall. He laugh then, imagining things, and he remember what Irving has told, it was a creepy house indeed.

He entered to the huge room. The nursery had been adapted as a big play area, with cabinets and chest with toys, painting tools, blocks, books, a rocking chair, a wooden horse. It has a big carpet in the middle of the space, and it has four rooms appended. The nursemaid room, has not been used since the girl has turned three. There was the crib room, with a cradle a an full bed, were the children sleep on a daily basis. The bathroom was located at the opposite side of the entrance, and next to it there was also a small door. This was intentionally covered with the same wallpaper to pass imperceptible on a first glance. There was a small space and a service tray on it, and also a spiral stair that led to the attic. Arthur walked slowly, silent, the room's door was open.

He could see the crib with the mobile hanging over. The fowl projected a shadow that spread over the walls. This was Nana's doing for sure, he remember he had discarded that toy after her second son had born dead. He peeked in the but it was empty, the cradle next to the bed too. The bed was empty as well. Now he was disconcerted and looked around. He was about to go fetch Adelaide when he found the pair. A bunch of toys was piled outside a big chest, that has the hint, when he poked inside the open chest he found the girl cuddled with the baby, as rabbits in a burrow of blankets and pillows. He remember two years old Lucille, asleep on the bed with the new doll he had bring her firmly tied in a hug. Now the present was discarded ungracefully in the pile of toys.

He had lifted the boy to the crib and then picked the girl up to her bed, she didn't wake up. Then he hold the boy again and with him on his arms, he went into the service room and ascended the spiral stairs. The attic was piled of boxes, but he went straight to the one he was looking for, he followed the sound, a small bell's jingling. When he opened the box, it contained old baby clothes, they where stained and smell like old yellow book pages. The sort the content aside, baby gowns and boots knitted in crochet, a lump of black hair tied with a bow, a frame without a picture, a small soft hair brush, and in the bottom he find a very particular baby rattle. The piece of steel can fitted in the palm of his hand. It was shaped like a vine, that curled at opposite sides at each extreme to end in a round jingle bell the form of a pine. It make a nice tingling sound when he shake it slightly. He blow it and rubbed it against his pants. Abandoning the box he settle himself on the floor with the baby on one arm, the other shaking the 'S' shape rattle.

The sweet tingling sound bring forgotten memories to him. Tears fell from his eyes, and he felt the tears trail was wiped from his cheek. But he was alone, just him and the baby asleep in his arms. Hi allowed himself to cry. The Sharpe blood was strong on the baby, he mimicked his father in appearance, his sister did too. Both shared the fair skin, maybe a little too pale, and the dark hair. But their factions were more sharpen, in that they resembled their mother. The toy he was now presenting to him, was given to Arthur by his father. It had been also buried with his first stillborn. He had placed inside coffin himself. He had done it five times, and still it always returned to same place somehow. The baby stirred, and he looked at the two big eyes staring back at him, blueish gray eyes that melted in a swirl, ghostly pale skin and fluff of silky hair starting to cover the mostly bald head. He had lift the baby and cradled him, holding him against his chest.

"I name you Thomas Edmund Sharpe, my son and heir of Allerdale State, I will not fail to you again, that I promise"

But promises were not what Sharpes were good at, especially when things grow out of their hands.

He spent the rest of the night there, returning to his room before dawn. In the morning, Lucille had waken up by the sound of bells. She was surprised to find the rattle in Thomas hand. Not because if the toy apparition, she assumed it was Adelaide who had gave it to him. It was her brother that surprised her, holding the toy in his little fist, shaking it to made it sound.

"Thomas!" She said, laughing.

"Where did you find it?" She laugh and dance around in happiness.

It was like that Adelaide had found them.

"Look Adelaide, look what Thomas is doing"

"Oh", she said, "he's just a wee laddie", and she settled to give Thomas his bottle.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

Lucille had been conflicted with the new attention Thomas had been receiving from her parents, she didn't knew if it was her wanting the attention too, or the feeling of Thomas being taking away from her by them. By bed time she knew that Thomas has been named, and now he was also Edmund. That name was chosen by her father and her mother as well. They had registered the baby's birth so it was official. The name sounded familiar to her but she couldn't figure it out why, therefore she forgot she had been even thinking about it.

Her parents had not arrived Allerdale Hall in the evening. She didn't noticed, safely asleep and wrapped up. They arrived on the morning, and summoned Thomas after his second morning bottle. She was left alone in the nursery while mister Thomas Edmund Sharpe was taken to her parents bedroom, without her to say something on the matter. She must had scream and do something to impede it, just that she didn't realize the plot until it was too late. In the loneliness of the room she fetch the candy her father had gave her on the day of his arrival, she had put it on her dress pocket and then safety under the bed frame. She took the candy to her mouth, it tasted bittersweet, mixed with the silent tears that pooled over her lips. Not all the candy in the world could be better that get her little brother back.

In the masters room the little one stirred incessantly, missing the warm beat of his sister. For first time since born, baby Thomas cried with sentiment. No matter how his mother tried to hush him. They had tried to feed him for more than an hour, but the child complained with his little body. By noon, the masters were tired and smelled of regorged milk. They had fell asleep in exhaustion after finally succeeding in calming the child down. Thomas snuggled on his father bare chest, the skin warm but not soft. The mother next to them with an awkward sensation that she didn't belonged in that picture. Each three hours they were awoken by Nana, bringing the little master's bottle.

The following night things returned to normalcy for Lucille and Thomas. While she was awake late t night, holding a second piece of candy for Thomas to suck, her parents commended themselves to long denied pleasures. In the days Arthur tried to close the gap between his wife and son, before and after spending the day in the mine. With Mr. Nort in charge there was more time he can stay at the manor. He had made it into a routine to had the breakfast all together, and take the children, to the inner garden where the first spring blossoms appeared for Lucille's delight. She had made a flowers crown for her when the tulips where big enough. Her mother had accepted and smiled. A rare treat the women offered her. It was in her mother nature to enjoy those moments as a family, were all was perfect and in place. The thing was, that wasn't the normalcy in Allerdale, and thus she rejected to have only pieces at a time. The children, the house, where turned into burden, nothing if Arthur was not there. She could not accept a broken family. And things that break her balance of perfection where horrid and turned everything around her into something rotten and vile. It was her mother that first has show her the butterflies, in the garden, full of life and color, and beauty. They were also dull and fragile in their beauty, weak. The father had given the boy to Adelaide, while they girls was allowed to remain a little more in the garden.

"Please father" Lucille asked for.

Agnes didn't like when the girl begged like that, she knew how woman's begging where listened by men. And this one had a candor inherited from his father's side. She sometimes craved to receive the same looks Arthur gave to the child, like if she was a cherub able to redeem the worlds sins with her bright eyes and smile. Girls, she thought, she had grown with a pack of them, her sisters all of them. They where nothing in her fathers eyes, a product of lust and temptation. They had grown themselves into that - lust and temptation - and flew away, innocent, beautiful as butterflies. The little one, she was not sure, but she had seen how Arthur never had a thought to reprimand the child, no matter how much she deserved it. She will not raise a butterfly. Her father used to called her that, _"Agnes, my lovely butterfly"_ he had been wrong, all his life.

"Mother, how the ones in the house has no beautiful colors" She had been bold to ask, confident as she has grown with the new family dynamics her father had bring to her and Thomas' life.

"Those are moths. They are not beautiful, but they are strong, enough to survive in the dark corners, where there is no sun to keep them warm."

"I don't like them, I like butterflies. I want to be a butterfly!" The child said.

"Are you sure?" She asked with a wicked smirk. "Moths are resilient, need no beauty to show others, their plain colors keep them safe, sheltered in the darkness and the house furniture and walls", she opened the palm of her hand, and one of the butterflies step on it. "but a butterfly, it will catch everyone's attention with his beauty, and that will be its dead". With that she closed her fist, crushing the butterfly inside. "You still want to be a butterfly?".

She watched the dead insect on her mother's hand, and denied with her head.

When Adelaide returned for Lucille, she was silent and quiet. She prepared the child a bath, and then scrubbed the child who sit inside the tub. The girl had asked the old woman _"What is resilient?"_ , Adelaide has put her thinking face and stated _"Is, someone that endures adversity and denies to give up, stay strong and fight back. Like..." . "Like Thomas?",_ the girl had said. _"Well I will said the little Master is resilient indeed. Even when we thought the worse, and even the good doctor have lost all hope. But he still is here, right!? And I'm pretty sure he will be for long, long time. He will return Allerdale to its glorious days, I'll see"._ Lucille's eyes were fixed in a corner of the room, looking at the moths flying around the candle light. _"Mother is right"_ , Lucille thought, " _You cannot be a butterfly to survive in Allerdale. Sharpes are all moths, they must be resilient, like Thomas"_. She decided that she will be a moth too.


	4. Odds and ocurrences

It was the third time in the season that the ramps had collapsed, that will require a lot of work in order to reassemble the tracks. The pit had been excavated as a big pool, from the center to the borders, with three levels deep and ramps to access to the pit bottom and pull the carts up and down with the crushed rock pieces. They clay was stockpiled and left to dry, then grinded several times and turned into a fine sand in a mill. They didn't processed all the clay there, the brickyard had being reduced to allow more space for the clay to dry, because the ampler or deeper they dig, the clay was more wet. They had dig into a stream of water that had leaked with pressure, making the paths melt into a mud and the ramps sliding into the pit. The place was puddled and they clay turned sticky when wet gluing everything on it, it took a great effort to pull the wood planks out of it. The workers where up to the calves in clay mud, it was difficult to walk or make the wheelbarrows to move. At least no one was hurt, but still some of the workers became reticent to work in such unsafe conditions. The summer hot didn't help anyone mood. It not even helped the clay to dry faster. In spite of the intense the sun, the clay composition changed when liquefied and it took too much time dry.

The foreman decided to stop the labor earlier for the day, as not much could be done with less than hours of remaining sunlight. At least that will settle the workers who were prone to point any singular or unfavorable event as an ominous signal. For them, Allerdale was mysterious in a way that give goosebumps, the place had inspired several cock-and-bull stories about ghosts and evil deeds. The Master on the contrary, had not reacted in a positive way. The sun was starting to set when Nort stood in the main hall, all covered in red clay, leaving footprints on the floor from the entrance to where he was standing. In the study, Arthur Sharpe yelled at him as if it was his fault, it wasn't. But he didn't knew Mr. Sharpe had been on town getting more bad news from his associates in charge of transporting the extracted material from Allerdale. Mc Cullin and Sons had required him a minimal amount of load to deliver if he wanted to keep the price unchanged. With the previous incidents and delays in the clay extraction it would be a difficult task to comply with the demand.

"I'm trying to run a business, and it cannot be paralyzed by stupid superstitions"

"Forcing the people for two more hours will do more harm than good. Besides, the ramp felt from the top dragging the ones below, it won't be a quick fix".

"Damn it! Nort I hired you to bring me solutions, no more troubles"

"Then I think is time to dig in a different place. Two miles to the North I'll suggest"

"No" He showed a map where the digging points have been drew on blue ink, if connecting the areas they made a line that turned around the manor. Two miles from the actual pit will align with the house. Any incident that result in ground displacement at that coordinates, may also be potentially harmful for the manor foundation.

"Then six miles North and two East, it will be far enough to the previous pit and even farther from the older ones"

"Ok" He ran his hands through his hair. This was the best option for now, but he wasn't sure how it will work in long term. "Order the materials we will need, I'll send Jory to town tomorrow to get them. Hire some extra hands to break down the new pit, and do the measurings in the morning"

"I will" Nort said, and was dismissed by a hand gesture.

In his way out William Nort took the exit to the west side on the manor, it went across a small inner yard and trough a trophy room. Busts of animal were hanged on the walls and several skins were displayed like tapestry. The space had books shelves, a desk and drawers with taxidermy implements. Next to the entrance there was an exhibition table with a glass countertop, it contained insects pinned and classified. There were scorpions and spiders, centipedes, dragonflies, but mostly butterflies. He looked at them, their exotic wings spread wide, enticing, inviting to watch. He observed them attentively, it was a rainbow to admire. Just one thing was out of place, like it didn't belong there. It had a fat body, the wings shaped edgy instead of round, brown-greyish color, it looked like a bunch of dead leafs, and of course it was not a butterfly. The specimen was unnamed.

William Nort left room without noticing that it connected with a hallway that lead into another area, a small hall with skylight of stained glass panels. The walls were covered in frames with more dissected insects, all of them were moths, locals and vagrants. In the second panel to the right there was a missing one, first row, fifth column, the empty space was labeled 'Poplar Hawk moth'.

Late on that evening Agnes had went to the study, just to find his husband nursing his problems in wine. She had asked him to come to bed, and he had answered rudely.

"Cannot a man be at peace at his own house? Let me alone woman"

It was the alcohol talking she knew, he tried to stood up and swing her a backhand but his equilibrium fell and he was back on the chair.

"As you wish" she said feigning indifference, but her voice was tainted with rancor.

Why had she cared after all? She left the lout man be, hoping he get asleep in an uncomfortable position that will ache his body in the morning, in addition to a head hurting hangover. She may as well stop her concerns toward his wellbeing... as he had gracefully asked her not to worry. She went to her bedroom and lay on her bed, thanked for her husband had not follow, so she can be spared of his bad mood. The discussion about the mine had been long and all Allerdale had listen to his yelling, poor Mr. Nort had taken most of the brawl in silence. She was not sleepy, so she changed into a silk night gown, and sat to comb her hair.

It has been long past midnight when Mister Arthur Sharpe had stood up, awaken by the sound of broken glass, the one he had been holding when he fell asleep. The glass had finally rolled off his fingers, not enough pressure holding it. The remnant wine sprinkled on the floor along with the shards. He shook his head and went to the kitchen, stumbling with difficulty. He found that Agnes was there making some tea, he looked at her.

"Come", he said.

She offered him some tea.

"No", he said, "I want you, here, now"

"Stop it Arthur, you are drunk" She said in disgust.

"I am, and you are...hmm", he licked his lower lip with his tongue.

"Let's go to sleep, you could use some rest"

"No!" He rejected shaking his head, like the impulsive child he sometimes was.

He held her forceful and tried to bend her over the table, but she offered resistance and he fell to the floor on his knees.

"You won't refuse me!" He tried to stand up tottering and waving his fist against her, catching only the air and falling again.

"Not here, Arthur, just lets go to the bedroom"

She helped him to get on his feet and supported his weight on her shoulder. He allowed her to guide him, stumbling through the stairs. She hated him when he took her, his alcohol smell, his hands clumsy but dominating, his erratic pace, and the way he finally feel asleep inside of her. She pushed him to a side, resigned that she won't be cuddled afterwards, again. She fell asleep nursing her mind with an image of a different man beside her, in a different place. It had been four days Arthur had spent in Carlisle, and five more since he had returned, and so far not an attention of her woman needs. And now this, a quick coitus by an inebriated man, she didn't want it like this. With Arthur it was never making love, but this was not even sex, it was him scrubbing his member against her to appease the erection, leaving her unsatisfied. She dreamed with herself in a lover's arm, one that held her with passion and delight, not only lust. A man that pleasured her softly, that cuddled her and moved gently, their bodies building up with a slow but steady rhythm, their orgasm embracing their connected bodies. A woman can dream and be alive as well. If she was destined to die in Allerdale Hall, she may as well reign over it and made her will for a change. It was due time for her to take charge. She had been a larvae all these years, she will come out from her cocoon. But what she had? only two lousy children, and a shabby old house. The manor had been her prison, her jailer, her silent witness, but now she will count it as an ally.

/\/\/\/\/\

The Sharpe Masters were not the only ones having a troubled night. In the nursery, little Thomas was sweating, his body naked except for the diaper, his sleep was agitated. Lucille was awake, it was too hot to sleep, and she rolled over on the bed incessantly. She wanted the October breeze to come already, but now the wind didn't blow and it was humid and sticky. Her mother always carried a fan with her in the hot days, moving it as fast as the moths moved their wings. Nana had told the basement was cold even during summer because it was under the ground. That's where the wines were stored, she had told. Lucille thought that she would like to sleep there for tonight, and drink wine as well if it was as cold as the water in winter. She never had been given wine to taste, _"wine is not for children"_ Adelaide had said, _"It will only give you a dizzy head and a stomach ache"_. If that was the case then she wondered why her father and mother drink it anyway. She was not convinced on Adelaide's answer, she never had seen her drinking wine, so probably she was only repeating what people tell.

Even after she had refreshed herself with a wet towel she didn't feel ready to sleep again. She was bored and wanted to get out of bed. Thomas was finally asleep, and an idea settled on her mind, a reckless one. She had not been outside the nursery by her own since Thomas was born. First she didn't have time to be bothered by the confinement, because of all the attentions the boy had required, she had been sleepy and tired more frequent than not. Then her father had come back, allowing her and Thomas to spend time out of the nursery, with him and her mother. The second reason was that Adelaide had been sleeping in the nursery spare room for the last six months, until the baby sleeping and feeding had become more regular. The doctor had dictated that the boy was progressing positively, and he had gained enough weigh and strength to sleep five hours between feedings, during the nights. That had motivated her mother to release Adelaide to sleep in her own quarters, something that the old woman sure appreciated.

Eight months has passed, her father had left and come back, and still he travelled a lot but only for few days, managing the family business as he said. At the beginning of the mining period, she usually saw her father more. But the mine demanded more and more of her father's time as the operations advanced through the summer. This was the usual pace for the Sharpes. Even if she still saw both her parents regularly, it was not as flawless as it has been the first time they were together after Thomas birth - which was actually four months after Thomas birth. Her father's energy seemed to be consumed as he stayed more time in the manor, and he tended to act less loving toward his wife and less caring toward his children. They weren't having breakfast together anymore and she regretted it.

She had asked father to see the mine and he had not agreed nor denied. In her childish mind, she wished he could do something to turn the time back and forth, and then stop it when she found the perfect moment when the four of them were together and in good terms. She would stop the time, to let that moment be forever. That was absurd of course, she needed to be more realistic, she thought, ' _Maybe if father don't have to be always in the mine'._

They had been in the small hall just a couple days ago, as her father had instructed Adelaide to give Thomas a daily sunbath. It was not a real bath, he was just allowed to lay clotheless under the sun rays. For her, the warm feeling was also nice, especially when surrounded by fresh and dry air. In the nursery, it felt like they were breathing the same air they exhaled forever and ever, breezeless and recycled. The ceiling in the nursery main area was higher than in the rest of the rooms. The roof was slightly tilted, with longer windows from the top to the middle of the wall. The maids used a large ladder to open and close them, and they mainly remained the same for the complete season, either closed or open. The sun can only be caught directly in a patch where the rays entered by the tall windows and reflected over the floor. In the late Winter days, when it still was cold she had piled cushions and sat with Thomas under the patch to catch the warm rays in the mornings, like cats in a windowsill.

Thomas liked the sun and the open space. He enjoyed the sunbaths, rolling over his belly or falling asleep with a peaceful smile on his face. Lucille jumped or danced around or lay on the bench, the sun on her face, her eyes closed. That day, her mother was in good spirits, she had been there and even braided her hair. If was not a usual interchange, and she discovered that the moments she spend with her mother like that, were really a treasure she craved for in secret. Father had arrived pacing and looking worried, he had spoken with her mother, but Lucille didn't paid attention to it. Then Doyle had arrived, his hat on his hands, he had addressed his father in the same way the maids used to address her mother. She didn't like the man, he was very thin, and used adjusted clothes, always well dressed with white gloves. He usually appeared unexpectedly, and disappeared as fast as he had arrived. His nose was pointed and he usually had that face like it had just smelled something rotten. He managed the estate finances, and the manor expenses, and even if he frequented the house a lot and sometimes spend the night there, he didn't live in Allerdale.

Her father's lips pressed together while Doyle had spoken with him, but he tried to show his best mood again after the man vanished away. Mister Sharpe moved to close to Thomas, running his hand over the infant's back in a caress. Thomas was curled with all his limbs turn inward, hiding them under his belly like a turtle.

"Father, can I go to see your work one day?"

"Hmmm?" He raised an eyebrow with incredulity.

"Can I see your work in the mine?" The girl felt encouraged by both of her parent's lately pleasant behavior. Since father's return they had been a family again. Just like a fairytale.

"It is not for little girls. Not for ladies at all" Her father responded.

"Maybe I can help to-"

"Your work is here, with Thomas and your mother. Mine is in the mine, where is not safe children"

"Oh Arthur, do not paid attention, she is just bored and being silly" Her mother interceded.

"Maybe if you spend more time with Her... Them"

"Maybe she wants to spend more time with...Her...Father"

"Don't fill the child's head with ideas"

"I'm not the one putting this idea on her mind, I assure you. If I had that power, she will be asking to go with you to France"

"I don't think you have that cunning in your mind, my dear" He pointed with cynicism.

"Oh, but I do believe is not a bad idea at all!"

"Do you enjoy this, don't you?"

"What?" She didn't catch the retort.

"Gainsaying against me, of course"

"I'm not, you can realize by yourself that your daughter is growing more perceptive"

"I do realize she doesn't need extra help to focus her perceptions toward certain topics"

"I'm just suggesting that you can show your daughter the glory of Allerdale estate, after all it will become her legacy one day"

He hoped not, the girl will marry at a proper age, unlike her mother, and the boy will manage the estate. That was the way things should be. He was still young and may have more children, but Agnes, she was not suitable for the task. Fourteen years of marriage have more than prove it.

"We'll discuss this later, I have things to attend", he said this ending the conversation abruptly and taking his leave right away. Lucille was clueless on what the conversation had been about.

/\/\/\/\/\

The girl thoughts wandered a while until her decision was made. Eventually the winter will come, which meant her father won't be there and she will be confined in the nursery again, the coldness discouraging her intentions. Off the nursery she will go, so she discarded her night clothes in favor of an undershirt that made it easier to climb down the first floor pipe. The moon could be seen through the room window, which meant she had plenty of time before Thomas next bottle. She went on her feet and onto the service door.

The descent had been swiftly, but she slide on the second floor bathroom because the pipe was sticky and she landed on her bottom over a puddle of red clay. How the clay flowed downside up, she didn't knew, but it was an inconvenience. Especially after realized that she had left red footprints all over the place. She took her shirt off and wiped her feet, then wiped the footprints on the floor before she started her exploration. She followed the arches lined with spikes, like rose thorns. They were pines, she noticed that after she felt the pattern carved on them with her fingers. Before she realized it she was in a dark corridor, she was sure she never had been in that part. The old servants quarters had been closed for at least twenty years, no one remembered exactly, except well, Nana and Adelaide. The place was very damp and she had followed the fluttering of the moths, the big ones made a loud buzzing sound. She heard noises and hide herself on the nearest room, all the room were lined up against the same wall, without doors.

She walked as far in the room as she could to get concealment in the darkness when something touched her back and she almost jumped, furniture, broken chairs piled up, a bed, everything covered in dust and mold, she could smell it, no doubt there where more than moths living there. She heard a noise like something being dragged, then a huge shadow passed in front of the room entrance, but it was too dark to distinguish what was at either side. It was scary and Lucille held her hand over her mouth to do not cry. Long time she waited before move and hurry up her way back. She had thought it was one of the maids, but no, this was bigger, the Grim Reaper with its long black cape. She had heard of it once, one of the maids had mentioned to another while cleaning the nursery. _"The Grim Reaper sure walks on the halls of Allerdale, waiting to take the souls of those who wander unaware on the haunted manor. It feeds with human souls, the house. And at night, it creaks to conceal the moans of the ones that had been taken"._ But Nana had stepped in _"mind your tongues you owls, or you will end working in a...less respectable house"_ , she held the bad word to not voice it in the presence of the girl, _"You should be grateful to get a job here in Allerdale"_. Quickly the maid had replied _"But Mrs. Beth, it is only what people said in the town, I am not making it up"._ _"Well then worse, you should be ashamed of repeating such nasty lies, and even more in front of the Mistress ears. Off you go, the two of you, I don't want to see the lot of you until you finish with the laundry"_. The pair had took the bedcovers and hurried out of the nursery.

"Wicked women, you don't paid attention those ignorants talk, Lucille dear".

"Nana, who is the Grim Reaper?"

She had explained to her, in a way to do not scare the child, "Is just a poor lonely soul. Some said when our time in this life is coming to an end, he will come to guide our souls to be judged in the afterlife"

"How does it looks like, it is scary?" The child asked.

"People that had done bad deeds in their life is always afraid of death, and so they think the worst things. But when you get old like me, you'll see that death is as natural as live."

"But people can die young too" Lucille had inquired.

"Well I think everyone is here for a reason, but the Lord may set different tasks for everyone and some can rest earlier than others"

"So... if we are still here, is for something we failed to do?"

"It is not so easy child, to discover oneself purpose may take a lifetime. There is no need to rush little one, the acts of the Lord are perfectly timed."

"Have you seen it, the Grim Reaper?"

"Oh no, only those who are to follow can see it, when the time comes"

"What about Thomas?"

"What?" The woman asked in concern.

"Do you think he had seen it? Sometimes he looks as if watching something but it is only us here"

"Oh no child, enough of nonsense. See what that knucklehead women do with their idle chat. Putting horrible ideas in your head"

"But Nana, what if-"

"None of that, there is no Grim Reaper or anything looking for you nor the young Master. You will both have longs lives ahead. So shake that nonsense out of your head, you are and angel as well as this beautiful boy" She sat next to Lucille with Thomas on her arms.

"If any, it will be cherubs with white gowns, playing songs with their harps and flutes. That will be for nice little children like the two of you" The old woman said with a calming tone, giving Lucille a hug while cradling Thomas.

With that memory, a sudden concern hit her head. The shadow it has not stopped on the door, so if it was not in for her, then... _"Thomas"_ she thought, she should never had left him alone. When she reached the room, tears where streaming down her cheeks, and she sobbed when she found Thomas asleep. _"Wake up Thomas, wake up, don't leave me alone", s_ he hugged the boy so hard that he woke up crying. She remained the night asleep, holding Thomas after calm him back. Trying to keep him from fall asleep again, just in case.

/\/\/\/\/\

The summer days still brought some more sharing moments for the Sharpes. Lucille had been taken to her mother company to listen to her reading. The girl constantly flow of questions only made a display of her ignorance in so many topics. While her mother voiced her concerns to her father, the later had replied she was still too young for a formal tutoring. A governess he knew should be a better companion, as young ladies used to make a fine blend between nursing and teaching, especially for the little ones. But that of course was out of discussion, none of them will even mention it. On the supper, the Mistress had bribed her husband using the girl. She had allowed her to pick the roses from the bushes in the inner garden, and Lucille had proudly told she had helped Nana to prepare the comfiture that will be served for the toast. He had succumbed to his daughter charms. The girl will do whatever to spend time outside, she had listened to her mother, and she had acted as told. The family was on the table, passing out the plates, where the dart was thrown.

"Father, can we go to a play for Christmas?"

He knew the girl had never been in the town, nor watched a play. So it was not definitely her own idea.

"Mother told me everything about, when you used to go see the pantomime. She told me the story of the Snow Queen, that's my favorite father! I want to see everything, the actors in the lovely costumes and the scenery and the music. It sounds like a story made it real, Can we go father?"

"Maybe for the next year, Lucille. I don't think the cold winter air will be suitable for Thomas"

Not the response Agnes was expecting, but it was not all loss yet. Lucille plopped on her chair, her enthusiasm abated.

"What about we do something for your birthday and Thomas, it will be next month. We can do something special here in Allerdale, can't we?" Her mother spoke to cheer her up, setting the bait.

"Well...I think we can invite some people, like Irving or Dening Forbes", her father spoke. He though in favor of the birthday date as he had not planned to spend December in England, yet he wanted not for his family to have that information so early.

"We should invite people with girls of her age. What about Cheryl Haydens and Lillian Wright". She insisted.

These were old Agnes acquaintances which he was not very fond of, the women were harpies, one was a recent widow and the other had a suitor hoping to become the woman's third husband. He was not confident of allowing Agnes to be in chat with any of them.

"Maybe Mr. Nort can make it too. But we should make preparations, and frankly I don't have time to plan for a party" He responded.

"For your daughter and your heir son, His first birthday, Arthur!"

"Well then, you shall be in charge of the preparations. Just let Doyle know what is needed. Then he addressed the girl: "How would you like it Lucille, a birthday party!"

"Oh, father thank you very much, you are the best!" She had gazed her mother expression looking for affirmation, and she had found it.

"We can go to the stables tomorrow, if it's not raining". Agnes said casually, and with that the child's eyes brighten even more interested in that than on the party idea.

Agnes was pleased, her daughter resulted to be a little manipulative devil. She could cultivate her daughter's skills into her benefit.

A party was something that Allerdale has not seen since her marriage. Any second intention was discarded upon the mourning of the children that never came to be.

It was nice touch that the idea had been suggested by Arthur himself, and for that she felt satisfied. Her tactics worked pretty well for a first time trial.

Even if Agnes Sharpe spent all her time in the manor and most of it without his husband, he still had a firm hand in controlling her doings, even while he was out. Doyle took care of that, a suitable the minion to his husband, and she believed he had a secret pleasure in denied her things by _'instructions of the Master'_. The few times she had ordered Jory to drive her out of Allerdale, Doyle has make sure the event reached Arthur knowledge and she has seen his husband hand close to her face, at his return. Arthur stated it was inappropriate for a woman to be by her own, that was why he had escorted the governesses. But she instead was a married woman, and cannot be seen with other than her husband. In this, Arthur was extremely conservative to the point of archaic. That didn't help Agnes life. She was alone and isolated. Her husband expected that she take the children for company. She needed to relate with real people, not babbling kids.

/\/\/\/\/\

She had made invitation letters and planned a meal, even entertainment for the children, a performer and a bunch of rabbits for petting. Arthur had told Adelaide to hide candies in the garden, so the children can search for them. That day the Randolphs had arrived first, Emma looked radiant as usually dressed in pastel tones, the children Irving Jr. and Nicholas where brought with them. They were 13 and 10, and both shared their father's fair hair and blue eyes.

Agnes added extra effort to be a delightful guest, knowing as she knew that Irving had been advising Arthur against her best interest. She will show them all the contrary. The kids played in the terrace next to the dance hall, while she engaged in conversation to entertain her guests.

"Oh, Emma. You had such nice gentlemen"

"Thank you, but do not let them deceive you, boys can be such a rascals. You will see, in no time Thomas will be giving you headaches" She giggled after her statement.

Agnes made a small giggle too, just to be polite. She had not see the comment as funny.

"They wrapped up the poor dog in bandages, using the excuse that they were practicing to be doctors as their father, Can you believe it?" Emma continued her chat.

Arthur and Irving where sat nearby having men's conversations, as usual.

"Well that requires lot of education, are you planning to send them to a boarding school?"

"Oh no dear, I will die if I am separated from my babies. They are tutored at home, until they are old enough to attend education in a college"

"How early did they started?"

"Well, Irving always had said that an early education nurture the young minds better. We hired Mr. Leipzig when little Irving was six. It had done miracles in their behavior, don't you think so Irving"

"Whatever she says I agree, he said making a surrender expression" He laughed and clunk his glass with Arthur's.

"I'm glad that you are better my friend, is good to see Agnes smiling and enjoying too" The doctor stated.

"I'll excuse myself a moment, to get the children ready" Agnes said to Emma.

"You may as well, dear. I want to meet little Thomas so much, and haven't seen Lucille since she was a baby" The blonde woman responded.

In the nursery, Adelaide was battling to get Lucille's hair braided. The girl's hair had grown long, almost reaching to her waist. The Mistress watched the scene and her expression turned into a scowl.

"Oh, give me that, she took the brush from Adelaide hands, you better prepare Thomas"

Of course Adelaide didn't knew much about fancy hair combing. Agnes instead had had six bushy heads to practice when she was younger. She finished Lucille hair in no time.

"Come on Lucille, there is people that came to see you. You'll behave today and play nice with the other children"

"Other children?" Lucille asked.

"Yes, they will be a lot of children today for the party"

"Children like Thomas?"

"Don't be foolish Lucille, older children of different age"

That make Lucille stomach twist, she never had seen others children like her. Not another girl, only babies, Thomas and the wet nurse woman's baby, just months older than Thomas, but much bigger and noisy. She was expectant and afraid, she won't k now what to do. As she walked out, she felt sick. Never had she thought she will be wanting to run back to the nursery. To run and lock the door so there were no others that intrude in her world.

When they reached the main hall more guests have arrived, a loudly bunch of children. Mr. William Nort introduced his offspring, the twin girls, two equal drops that giggled and bowed holding her dresses as one salutes royalty.

"This is Christopher, he is Lucille's age, and the little bear cub hanging to his mother is Bryan. Joan, let me introduce you to Mrs. Agnes Sharpe and of course lady Lucille Sharpe"

Lucille stared trying to remember how to greet properly. She had been showed once by a governess, but her mind was in blank at that moment. She did a courtesy like the twins, trying to imitate the execution of the identical looking girls as best as she could. Then the group moved into the terrace, leaving Lucille with the strange child that was her age.

"I have a magnifier, do you want to see it? I can burn things with it" The boy said in a neutral expression.

Lucille was mute.

"Can you hear, girl?"

"What?" she finally spoke a word.

"If you can hear me, my father said we don't laugh at you if you acted weird"

"I don't act weird!" She replied.

"But you are locked all the time. Are you bad? That's why your momma locks you?"

She decided she didn't like this boy, or 'other children' if them were like this one.

"No! What do your father knows anyway?"

"That you have a sick brother, he'd never seen him. He said he may be deformed"

"How you dare!" She stomped over the boy pushing him with her strength.

The boy stood up and run to fetch his father. "Weird!", he yelled at Lucille. He needed not go so far, as his father was already walking to the hall, and went surprised when the boy came running and bumped against him.

"Father, father, she pushed me to the floor" The boy pulled his father hand and pointed accusatory to Lucille with the other.

"Calm down Christopher" He walked with the boy in hand and stepped in front of Lucille.

"Is that true? Did Christopher threatened you in any way? Did he pushed you first?"

"No sir, but he said horrible things about my brother and-"

"No need to detail, I think we all can ignore this incident, we don't want to ruin the mood of the celebration, right?"

Both children were silent.

"How about Christopher apologize and we forget it. Go on son"

"Father!?" But Mr. Nort pulled Christopher's ear hard, "the little lady is waiting Christopher". He emphasized the boy's name.

"I apologize for what I said of your brother" He still believed the girl was weird.

"Good, and what do we said Lucille, sure your mother had taught you"

"I... accept your apology. I apologize too for pushing you"

"Very well then, why don't you two go to play? Christopher can show you the present he brought, right?"

The boy nodded in resignation.

Lucille headed up to the terrace, she was allowed today most free range to walk around the house, most than ever in her life, and she didn't wanted it ruined by a stupid boy. Once she started to walk giving her back to the visitors, Mr. Nord pulled his son ear even harder, he bent toward the boy to spoke secretly in his ear.

"Not a word to your mother, you hear me?"

"No" They boy was much convinced by his father menacing way, the one that usually endure him a punishment with the cane. "No, father"

"Off you go!"

They boy ran out, and the man walked in opposite direction.

Three hours later Lucille had managed to survive, avoiding the children as much as she can, at least a dozen had arrived with their parents. They had played and run. She wanted too, but she didn't. She was wary and still mad about the Christopher boy incident. She still thought she was more fortunate that Thomas, who had spent the whole time wailing in her mother's arms. He was probably overwhelmed with so many faces and hands poking his cheeks, with their elaborated hairstyles and hats. He had the 'about to cry' face, and she regretted she couldn't be the one to comfort him. This should have been their day, for the two of them only, maybe cake with father in the hall and mother might have play the piano as well.

She forgot a little of everything when the entertainers arrived, they walked over wood sticks, looking like they had long legs, they juggled things, and made tricks, her attention was captured with the show. For once she blended herself among the group of children their eyes fixed on the spectacle. She clapped with them and laughed, and glanced to look at Thomas from time to time. She found her father, his eyes fixed on her, a smile in his face.

When the sun set arrived, they went given food and cake. Her father had raise his glass and made a toast for his son and daughter. She didn't remember what he had said, not the seven year boy that share the pudding with her, he had gave her a pin, an ivory carved elephant, he had said his father had brought it from India. He had been nice and sat with her. But that she didn't remember. Her eyes where fixed on the hall room, where the couples danced, drawing invisible circles in the space, and the music was so beautiful. Her father had walked to her and offer his hand, making a curtesy. She grabbed it not sure what to do.

"Just follow me" He guided the girl in slow steps grabbing her by both her hands.

He pull her up suddenly, holding her so they were both eyes level, his right hand holding hers extended. He twirl to one side and the other, moved forward and backward, they bodies moving in the rhythm of the music. She looked at him, she always have liked his father's gray eyes like the sky after sunset seeing through the nursery window, when the last ray of sun is gone and the pink and purple colors reflected on the clouds changed into gray before black. She held his shoulder, and moved her hand toward her father cheek, over the raspy short beard. In that moment they both were pure joy.

The song finished and she hugged her father hard, and he left a chaste kiss over his daughter cheek.

People applauded, and the music started again, she watched the man she loved dearly went to dance with her mother, they too looked happy and she wondered if it was a dream or if fairytales can really become true. From the big felted chair close to the mirror wall, she watched the dance, holding Thomas on her lap, Adelaide sat next to her. Dreams ran free on the girl head, while Thomas was trying to climb on her dress, the rattle firmly held on his little hand, and his two bright eyes now tearless, they were beautiful, like fathers but clearer, baby blue as the unclouded sky.

After that, she could recall any event. She had been carried to the nursery after fall asleep in the hall. It was dark when Lucille woke up. Thomas was on the crib, and she ran to see if the party was over. The nursery door was open, as it has been her father the one that have carried the children with Adelaide, he had left the room last. The house was silent when she made it to the ground floor, and almost got scared to dead to find her mother there. She looked at her like in disgust, grabbed by the arm and walk her upstairs in a hurry.

Neither spoke. Lucille was confused, and when the nursery door closed behind them, her mother slap her cheek pretty hard. A tear started to pool right away while she hold her redden face with one hand.

"Mother?"

"That is for pushing the Nort boy. You must behave like an uneducated savage to my own embarrassment!?"

"But he told-" She was cutted in her speech by her irated mother.

"I don't care what he told. You are used to do as you please and remain as an untamed wild beast. Attack the poor little boy! That is how you treat your guests"

"I did apologize!" He spoke in her defense.

"They will stay here for tomorrow, so listen to me well. I don't want to hear any complain of you misbehaved with those or any other children. Did I made myself clear?"

"Yes, mother" Her voice was quiet and low, trying to avoid another slap.

Her mother left the room, locking the door behind her.

The child ran to the room and pulled Thomas off the crib, the both settled on the bed and Lucille tried to sleep. She was sure the night had not been a fairytale, it had been a dream. She knew this because the dreams always end when you wake up.


	5. Brother of mine

At two years old, little Thomas Edmund Sharpe had let everyone know that he lived the life at his own pace. He wasn't walked independently until eighteen months and still he was not passionate about running or wandering around for long by himself. At the same age, his sister had been an avid climber, making Adelaide to scream in panic when the toddler made it to the top of the nursery wall clock. Thomas instead preferred to attach himself to his sister as an appendix and walk that way. He was not quite the talker either; his public speech consisted in a few well defined words that could be counted with two pair of hands. He also repeated a bunch of monosyllables, and for that his mother was sure the boy had a troubled mind. He sometimes sat quiet for hours in the corner of the nursery watching to the door, Adelaide had noticed. But what no one had noticed was that the boy was as quiet as observant, his developing brain got caught in small details, like the line of termites that made its way through the corner of the doorframe. The tiny insects got blended into the wood tones, almost imperceptible unless one is looking for them intendedly. He pronounced the sounds that made each word independently, and his fully articulated words were mostly reserved for his sister. The world around the boy held for him things yet to be discovered, things that only he could see, and his eager bright eyes picture everything as a puzzle put together, and he could see how and where the pieces wedged in.

For the last month he had noticed the man than had come to the nursery regularly. He was stiffed like the floors in the night, when the wood is about to crack. Thomas had waked up listening to the sounds the house makes at night, they scared him but he wanted to know, so he had listened. His sister had explained than the old houses creaked, but the why was beyond her knowledge. He had put his ear on the floor, keeping his gaze also over the floor. Then he had waited and waited for long, until the creak sound was reproduced close to where he was. He had seen the particles of dust agitated, floating in the air, where the moon illuminated the room and the floor had made the sound. He had placed his hands on the same place, several times during the day. It never cracked during the day, only at night, when the floor was cold and hard – harder, he decided it felt harder. The man, Thomas was sure he looked like if his body was about to crack. He had watched the man from a corner of the room. He spoke to Lucille in a severe tone, and he had hit her sister with a thin cane, like her mother did, but not in her bottom but in her hands. Lucille had not cried. He had. He had cried when mother had stroke the cane against his bottom, not long ago, when the man wasn't there. He had been taken to mother's room and he had peed on himself. She had placed him on the bed, and combed his hair with her hands in a soothing way. It felt nice, she told nice things too. _'My sweet baby boy'_ she had told him. He had heard these words from Nana and Lucille; he knew they meant good, and the calming voice tone... He had felt asleep and he had dream with a warm bath, on the tube, the nice feeling of water surrounding him as in a good embrace. He had been awoken to find his mother in rage, yelling at him, and she had grabbed the cane. He didn't like the cane, so he didn't like the man with the cane. Father never carried a cane.

In the nursery's study area Lucille sat as straight as a pole while Mr. Sutton, the new tutor, made her pronounce and repeat the letters that where carved in a table. The alphabet, she copied the letters in a board with chalk, and the powder released in the friction made her nose sneezy. She had been very interested in learn the words at first, so she would be able to read the stories in the books for Thomas. But it resulted to be not fun at all. After two years of being left on her own, except for listening to her mother readings and memorizing the prayers, she has found this new arrangement uncomfortable. The previous governesses were but a fade memory now, she can only remember that she was not to be sitting straight for hours, she remembered there had been rhymes and plays to help her to learn and remember the names of things, like the animals on the books or the months on the year. If not of tender ways, her mother's discipline had helped her to bear the lessons without getting tired so fast. Still, her first attempts to reproduce the letters with the ink were a complete failure and mess. The tutor had put the ink and paper away until she developed more proficiency, the chalk will do it for beginners. So she was engaged in identifying, pronouncing and copying the letters, and also some lessons about etiquette.

Etiquette was something a lady must exhibit and she hasn't. Her mother had recalled the conversation topics Lucille had inspired during last year birthday party. Her mother had made sure that opinions like: _"Such an adorable girl, but a little wild" or "The girl is like a piece of charcoal, waiting to be turned into a diamond",_ reached her father's ears. Finally, he had agreed to hire a tutor when she reached six years old. Men can be so foolish and proud, Agnes had thought, the fact that the foreman's boy had entertained the night with a poem recitation, had been the push her husband needed to make a decision. The boy was five and can read good enough, and everyone had agreed that it was an accomplishment for such a young boy. Even Irving had advised in favor, considering that another person to interact with Lucille with his undivided attention would benefit her greatly. Lucille didn't know she will be tutored until the man had arrived to Allerdale Hall and they were formally introduced. Mr. Sutton was not an old man, but neither was young, tall but not as father, meaty, a short brown beard and a stick in his hand. Lucille hated sticks so much, her mother had used the cane on her on several occasions, her bottom had regretted dearly.

"Are you intending to use that on my daughter, because I totally forbid it" Mr. Sharpe had told the new tutor, when they had meet in his studio.

The tutor had arrived Allerdale Hall two weeks before Arthur Sharpe. In that brief time he already had his way with Lucille. Her mother had also her way to ensure that the girl won't speak inappropriately in front of her father. It was not really necessary; the girl never had run to complain in her father's arms, not for being ignored, not for being punished, never, not once. Still, she left her a reminder, just in case.

"Of course not, Mister Sharpe, it's just to signal on the charts. But I have to say that its presence does help to keep discipline, a little intimidation may motivate the reckless ones to behave" Mr. Sutton had stated, making it to sound casual.

"I assure you my daughter is not one of those cases" Mr. Sharpe pointed.

"I'm sure of it, and please don't mistake me Sir, I don't support that barbaric method of correction. And if you don't use it either, then there is nothing for the child to be afraid of" Mr. Sutton responded.

But Mr. Sutton could tell that Lucille knew what the stick was for; even before Mrs. Sharpe had told him she used the cane to install obedience. He had seen the fierce eyes the girl had laid on the stick, fear and rebellion, a dangerous mix. It doesn't take much to know a child's character, just being observant. The more stubborn boys looked in defiance, while the educated ones looked down, their heads trying to avert the view from the wooden stick. No matter how they pretended to feign indifference or ignorance, fear could be seen in their eyes in the same way a trapped fox will look at the hounds. In his very personal opinion, obedience was unnatural in children, like wild horses they must be broken in order to be tamed.

Good behaving children, Mr. Sutton was convinced, were as scarce as proper accommodations in Allerdale Hall. He disliked the place and the lack of good Brandy to offer the guests. But the pay was not bad, not what he usually will accept but life was being unfair with him lately. After the incident that ended in his shameful dismissal from one of the best boarding houses for boys in London, it had become very difficult for him to find a new placement as a permanent teacher, he had been denied in several schools, and not only in London. Nowadays the people make a scandal for everything, no matter how it will damage other's public image. It was an exaggeration, the gazette had printed a full page on the subject, high lightening that one person of the school staff had been involved in peculiar traits with the older students, and the person in question had been removed from his position silently. They said the school had kept it all under a veil of secrecy, to avoid damages in their reputation, or possibly to protect the depraved teacher, _'only god will know'_ the article had stated.

No one had been hurt or died, if much the girl had been manhandled. The boys were old enough to understand how to please and be pleased by the opposite sex, so it had been educational on the best of purposes. It was his fault as he had sent the wrong ones to fetch the whore. They were supposed to bring a woman, an experienced woman, not an amateur just enrolled in the occupation. It was not her first time, but it was evident she had never handled so much in one work night, too many. He had to admit that some of them had been a little rough, and the girl was scared. She had ended in a state of distress, and ran away from the place sobbing and naked. And then his good luck ended when a police officer turned out to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, not wrong for him though, nor for the young prostitute. The boys with wealthier families had paid for their heirs to continue in the school, their names erased from the incident report. Other weren't as lucky, of course culprits needed to be signaled and exemplary punishment had to be imparted, for the good name of the school and the peace of mind of rest of the parents who voiced their concerns about the immoralities their boys may be exposed to.

Mr. Sutton had been forced to move from the city to offer his services away from London. His path led him to usually remote destinations, castles and manors in the middle of nowhere. The idea of being secluded, teaching insufferable pampered boys was not of his affection. So far this was the worst place he had ended. The state of the house was shameful, chilly, dark, and spiced with a smell of old humid wood and mold. At least Mrs. Sharpe made for a good conversation and she shared his taste for chess. She also played the piano like an angel. The daughter on the contrary was an untamed wilding, not for long. He had seen it so many times, if not properly educated from an early age the girls could become as daredevil troublemakers as any boy. He had taught girls, but not girls only. The last job he had taken involved eleven rascals. He had wondered how the mother had arranged to procreate so many, but the offspring had come from two marriages or that he was told. By looking at the lot you could guess the man had convinced or imposed his wives to admit at least a couple of bastards to be raised altogether with his natural sons. The third wife was only interested in the old man money and title, not on any of the demons she took as step mother. She was intelligent enough to not breed more of that blood. There were only two girls, the smaller one only three years, adorable as she was not his responsibility. The older girl may as well command Genghis Khan's army. Seventeen and she organized and managed the bunch of boys like her personal troops, plotting and acting against nannies, governesses, step mothers or any attempt to rule that was imposed over them, he included. He couldn't deny he had learned a few tricks from that pack. When he got notice about the opportunity at Allerdale estate he did not miss it. Only one girl and six years old, even if it was the devil herself one child alone was always easier to bend into submission. He had wrote right back to the mother for the arrangement, this will do as a vacation, he thought. The mother's main concern was that the girl was graceless, besides uneducated, she wanted to prepare her for a boarding school to raise her in the proper manners. Girls were supposed to be elegant, delicate, quiet, prude and submissive to her husbands, that in order to find her a suitor for marriage. He agreed on it, girls should learn that and no more, a woman with so much intelligence, confidence and determination can be a problem and was not well seen in the conservative English society. Of course there were those who think against. But thankfully he was not, nor was it Mrs. Agnes Sharpe. He had investigated on his own, so he knew the poor conditions of the woman marriage. A shame the woman had been burdened to tend his widowed father, which was customary but uncommon. If the father never married again the older daughter took her mother's place regarding the management the house, raising the little ones and taking care of the father health, especially if this was of advanced age. A shame he thought, women are made for procreation and the strength of youth should not be wasted unused, that was a real shame.

The stick fell in a single motion, stroking hard against Lucille's knuckles. Again the girl had lightened her grip, allowing her traces to be tremulous. When her father was not at home, as accustomed, her mother guided herself with a different set of rules. In those, Mister Sutton had been given free range to correct the girl in the best way he deemed appropriate to get the child agreement and cooperation. Agnes Sharpe had chosen him as a tutor; she has contacted him and convinced her husband he was the right one. Mr. Sharpe may have been the one to sign the checking orders for his payments, but his wife had full command regarding the child education. And she was to be sure her family's money was well expended.

The lesson had extended since after lunch, and so far she was tired enough barely maintaining her attention. Her fingers hurt, and a red line was displayed across all of them.

"You are not ever trying girl, your mother will be very displeased if you don't put effort on your best interest" Mr. Sutton had said, and it had sounded like a hypocrite concern.

Two months only and the old man already knew how to manipulate her mother, and how to push Lucille herself, in the verge of despair. Even though, the stick was nothing in the man's hand compared to what it may do if it were hers mother's hand the one to hold it. With the age Lucille gained independence and confidence, slowly and unnoticeable she had been losing more and more the will to please her mother. That, she had proved already, was an impossible task. It felt like glory when one of the maids opened the door to invite Mr. Sutton to take the afternoon tea, on Mrs. Sharpe's behalf. The man at last ended the lesson for the day. She pretended to put effort in her letters until the door was closed after the tutor. Lucille plopped in the chair like if her body was a dead weight, falling then to the floor in an attempt to catch Thomas attention. The boy can be seen sitting there in the corner of the room at the other side of the nursery. Nothing. She straight up and went to the room. Adelaide was 'resting the eyes', as she used to said when she fell asleep during day hours. The old woman used to nap during Lucille's lessons while watching at Thomas. It was like taking a cookie from a child, because the child in question, contrary to his sister, was able to spend hours in the same spot. Lucille took Thomas by his hips lifting him into upright position. He stood straight, grasping her dress tight with both his hands and moved, then walked as she did.

"Come on Thomas", she battled gently to make the boy let go off his grasp.

She retrieved a red ball, the one their father had gave Thomas a few days before their last birthday. Thomas liked the bright red color and the soft texture. When he saw the ball he got quiet, following it with his gaze.

"Try to catch it Thomas!" The girl threw the ball softly, but the boy didn't lift his arms and the ball went rolling behind the toy's chest. Thomas moved to fetch the ball, something between walking and running. In his hurry the boy fell on his knees, landing over the edge of one of the wooden blocks and hurting his knee.

A cut in the shape of a horizontal line was stamped on Thomas knee, it started to bleed. Lucille had carried the boy into the bathtub to avoid making a mess. In a couple of minutes she had followed him, so they were both sat in the tub, while she tried to clean the wound with a towel and the liquid Adelaide always used on her. She knew it itched a lot, so she tried to be gentle while rubbing on the boy's leg. He didn't cry loudly, but whimpered with big tears staining his bright eyes. She wanted to cry too, her heart ached to see the cut that marred the perfect skin of her brother's pale body. In her childish thoughts she felt bad, she was supposed to take care of him and he was hurt right in front of her nose. When Adelaide found them, waken up by the sobbing, she found both children in the tub. Lucille holding Thomas as a mother holds a child in her lap, pressing kisses on Thomas knee. The knee was covered with a handkerchief, which most probably, Lucille had tied around it like a bandage. The boy hugged his sister with his face pressed against her chest. It took some time to separate them, as he grabbed her as hard as he could with his thin body.

That night he woke up in the darkness and rolled over the bed covers, poking his sister to wake her up, _"il, ill"_ he said in an attempt to articulate a new word. She woke up to see Thomas crying again silently, as he used to.

"Thomas what happen? Does it still hurt you?" She went to check on his knee but he didn't allow it in his distress.

She tried to calm him in vain; apparently he was scared of something. She wondered if he wasn't too young to have nightmares. The soothing words where of no help to comfort the boy, until finally she did the craziest thing she could think about, in order to show Thomas there was nothing to be scared of. In a display of self-confidence she stood with regal stance on the bed and yelled making her voice as intimidating and authoritative as their mother's.

"Go away whatever you are, I command you to stop bothering my dearest brother for he is the Master of Allerdale Hall and everyone under this roof must obey him. So be gone, and stop interrupting his rest. Then she threw the cushions and pillows in every direction, as if she were indeed attacking some targets. She could not avoid to laugh, and it was contagious, so she jumped on the bed laughing some more.

"Jump with me Thomas!" she said holding the little boy hands. They jumped and laughed, and plopped on the bed when they got exhausted.

"It's fine Thomas. I'll always care for you" she said, and she kissed the boy bandaged knee, and she kissed his soft dark hair.

Under the bed covers they went as she had done many times when he was a small baby, she took her clothes under the covers and undressed the boy from his bed clothes too. They hugged as always, as if each other were the only thing they had. The boy kissed Lucille hands where the reddish marks were, his tiny hands taking hold of her cheeks, "ille", he said "luzz...ille", and it was the sweetest word on her ears.

In the morning, Adelaide was puzzled in a good way; Thomas didn't stop to repeat his new word again and again, the rattle dangling in his hand as he moved. Adelaide was surprised of the boy behavior, for once the boy was not the shy and quiet creature he was always been. On the contrary he ran to Adelaide and pulled her hand, proudly showing off that he can pronounce his sister's name. The tutor had later asked Adelaide to move the boy into a different room so he could advance with Lucille's lessons.

That day he was removed from the nursery for Lucille classes. He ended in the kitchen, watching Adelaide making dough and shaping it into buns, while the kitchen maid was taking the feathers off a duck. Both women were delighted with the boy's talk.

"How come this lad is saying his first word?" the maid asked in amazement.

It was the first time for Thomas to spend so much time in the kitchen as a toddler, so he was attentive to the novelty of his surroundings.

"My boys all spoke by the year if not before" the woman said without intention to brag.

"This child had a difficult beginning, it is a miracle he is here with us healthy and speaking" Adelaide responded in Thomas defense.

"So the little Mistress name, is that what he says?"

"No less I expected, those two are toast and butter, born to be together", and this Adelaide said with satisfaction.

The boy had been a blessing for the poor girl. It was not healthy for a child to be alone in that manor, confined for the most of time. The Mistress robbed her daughter's innocence with each word of indifference or rejection, never a compliment nor a hug. If someone could save the girl from growing up to be sour and unhappy as her mother, it was Thomas, for sure the little Mistress loved her brother. Adelaide didn't blame the Sharpes entirely; she knew every soul in Allerdale carried its own heavy cross.

In no time Thomas was walking, holding the border of the table. He fetched a wooden spoon trying to make sounds with it. He was allowed to go and do as pleased, and even was served a bottle of milk with honey. The maid had said it will stir the child up.

"He must be running and jumping outside and messing up. This one is too quiet, and that's not natural"

Adelaide scolded her to not speak such words in front of the little Master. The woman's retort was cancelled with the sudden entrance of the Mistress, who found herself unpleased to find Thomas there.

"What is he doing here?" the Mistress asked inquisitively.

"Mister Sutton mistress, he needed it to be quiet for Miss Lucille lesson"

"And?" the Mistress now demanded, not seeing what that was related with the boy being out of the nursery without her word.

"And Master Thomas was speaking nonstop"

"Speaking, you say?" Sounding not convinced.

"And what he said?"

"The little Mistress name"

"Come, Thomas" she said grasping the child hand.

"I'll take care of him Adelaide, until Mr. Sutton is finished" with that mother and son left the kitchen.

Thomas struggled to keep his mother's pace. He was walked to the main hall and was left there in the couch. The boy was startled as he usually was in presence of his mother. The woman was intimidating in an uncomfortable way. He knew Nana and Adelaide, they looked alike, both with similar clothes and meaty bones, and they were loud and gentle. He saw them every day, the watched him, bath him, feed him and dress him. Their touch was not rude. The doctor, he saw him once in a while, and like the tall man with dark hair he smiled frequently, and he usually ruffled his hair, he smelled funny like the big black leather case he always carried with him. But the tall woman, she always held him hard, sometimes she was tender and warm, and sometimes she was indifferent. Sometimes he hid his cheeks on her chest, her hand caressing the soft curly hair. In those times he could also remember the tall man, he had carried him more than the woman, his kisses were scratchy because the hair on his face, and he sometimes smelled really strong, like the itchy liquid Lucille had put on his knee. He knew his names too. Father and mother, Lucille had told him. _"Be good to mother and father Thomas. Thomas, father will be home tonight, isn't it great. We better hide it so mother won't find, right Thomas"_.

"Repeat Thomas...MOTHER... ", she had been telling that for a while now.

"Come on boy, prove me you are not stupid" The mother spoke, her patience dissipating.

"Speak up boy!"

Nothing.

He was distracted with the rattle on his mouth.

"Give me that, you can have it back when you speak up". She took the rattle from Thomas' hand, and the boy tried to fight against.

"No, you cannot have it back until you let me hear the words"

The boy's arms were extended in plead, trying to get back the rattle from his mother raised arm.

"No Thomas, if you ask for it I will give it to you"

The tantrum only grew on him.

"If that is how you are going to act, then you are not having it back. That is what you learn from the girl for sure. Come on call your sister, go ahead", the whimper continued with drowned cries.

"Oh, stop that sobbing!" She said raising her voice. But the whimpering just increased, the tears flowing more and more.

For about one hour the woman had tried to get word from the boy without success. She repeated the words, bribed him with a sweet, pinched on his upper arm, showed him the rattle, and teased him with the cane. Finally she gave up. He saw how his rattle was put in a drawer, locked with a key. And then he had been walked again while his mother pulled at his arm. He struggled on the stairs until the woman lost her patient and lifted him, his whole body hanging by the arm. This produced a yell from the boy.

"No Thomas, stop it this instant!" The mother reprimanded.

 _'No'_ , he had heard that word frequently; she used it with Lucille a lot.

 _"No you cannot go outside…_ – _But, mother..._ – _No"_

 _"No, you are not having supper tonight, until you tell me the truth._ – _I told you a boy give it to me, please mother"_

 _"What will be next with you if I allow you such ways? No, Thomas will stay in the nursery"_

 _"No, your father is not here to consent your childish behavior"_

 _"No, and that is final"_

 _"No"_

He wanted her to stop, so he used the word "No, no, no".

It worked, his mother stopped, just to pull him again and into a room, it was one of the guest rooms but it had no furniture. She had used it for the girl punishments, to put her on time out when she had got her temperament. She had no patience at all for baby tantrums. There she dropped Thomas in the middle of the room and looked the door. Maybe, she thought, it was not a bad idea to send the girl to a boarding school, her influence on the boy was starting to show already. And she won't have any of that. One pampered reckless child was enough. She will mold this one as best as she could. Probably, Arthur will see reason when he returns.

The boy curled on the floor, looking to the empty place. He didn't dare to move. A faint ray of light leaked through the heavy curtains, but it was getting darker outside, and in no time he was left to darkness. When Adelaide took supper to the nursery she noticed the absence of the little one. She went to Mrs. Sharpe to take the boy from her but he wasn't with her. The mistress walked to the first guest rooms and opened the door. There was the boy on the floor shaking, he had peed himself and the diaper had leaked soaking him up. Adelaide held him and took him to the nursery, none a word spoken. She knew her mistress state of mind was easily to shake, and contrary to what the doctor had said, it had got worse. The children were frequently the target of her mood changes, but this was the first time she acted upon punishing the boy like this. Since he was born, he had been treated by all as if he were a glass figure about to break. Well, all except Lucille, she handled the boy with care but without overly delicacy. Now that the boy was getting healthier and stronger, he was not escaping his mother wrath.

Lucille cried when Adelaide washed a trembling Thomas. He didn't eat, no matter how his sister and Adelaide tried to convince him.

"This is no good Adelaide said, no good"

At last the children were left to sleep. Lucille held her brother tight, cradled him on her arms.

"I'm here dear Thomas, I'm here. What she did to you?"

"Mooother" he said, "mother", giving up the name of his torturer.

"I know. She can be like that. I'm sorry" She cried in her impotency, if it wasn't for the tutor this would not have happened.

"I tell you what, I'll practice and you can too, so Mr. Sutton will allow you to stay here, but you have to be quiet"

A chess board was lifted to the bed and there she set up the writing tools.

"This is a plume. Can you say it Thomas?"

"Plum" the boy repeated.

"And this is paper, paaapeerrr"

"Paaaipe"

"Great job Thomas. Now the alphabet, these are the letters we use to made the words"

"wods"

"Uh hum. This is the A, and this is the B" Thomas started repeating the letters and words while Lucille tried to write them in a paper, the ink staining on her fingers.

Lucille was a patient and loving teacher, and Thomas' vocabulary increased considerably fast because of their night lessons. Lucille's hand writing became much better and for that the tutor was pleased, but she usually fell asleep in the noon readings, and that got her frequent corrections, for her inattentiveness. But when their father had come back after Christmas, their effort was rewarded. She made sure to show him her accomplishments, and he was pleased with her advances. She had enjoyed her mother puzzled face when Thomas had said 'father' and her father praised him effusively. Thomas had learned to tell 'mother' first, but the woman would never knew it, and that filled Lucille with a wicked pleasure.

/\/\/\/\/\

Another month passed and another, and the rain came to Allerdale Hall making the manor more humid and depressive. They spend most of the time in the nursery, weeks without peeping out. Only Lucille was dragged to the main hall five days a week to practice the piano. She wanted to be able to play for Thomas. Her mother won't allow it. It was in the middle of a lesson when she noticed Thomas rattle, it make a sound when her mother opened the piano drawer to pick up a book.

That started a plan of action that would take place on the concealment of the night. She practiced her reading to keep herself awake, but that also kept Thomas awake. While he pronounced the words from the pictures on the book, she prepared to sneak out, changing her bedclothes for the ones she had used the year before, those fitted tight and shorter, much better to avoid being caught on the wall splinters. No candles, she thought, the task required to be done swiftly.

"You stay here Thomas. I'll be back"

"No". The boy responded.

"You must Thomas, if we are both caught it will be a mess."

"No, I go, Luzille"

"But Thomas!" His pleading eyes always softened her. And as usually she pleased the boy.

"Ok, but you must stay very quiet."

"Uh humm"

"Do what I said, and only what I said, and do not cry, I'll hold your hand"

"No cry" Thomas repeated. By the time they were in the passageway she was thinking it had not been a good idea to bring Thomas along.

She went first under the door and then helped Thomas. Lucille put her finger on her mouth to signal Thomas to be silent. They peeped through the holes in the raggedy drape.

"Mother", he said when realizing that it was mother's room, and even more, mother was lying on the bed.

"Shh Thomas, don't you say a word!" She said in a whisper.

"Wait here" she said going behind the drape.

She slipped through the floor toward the nightstand with the drawer. She knew her mother put the keys there every night. She can see the shape of her mother under the sheets, and she was... not asleep. Below the bed was her best chance. She made it just in time, before her mother rolled to a side, her face in the direction of the drape. She was able to open the drawer and grab the key. Lucky for her, the key of the hidden drawer on the piano was tied alone with a ribbon, not attached to the key ring that held a heavy bunch of tangling keys. Once the first part was done, she realized her escape route was ruined. She will have to wait who knows how long for her mother to roll to the opposite side or to be profoundly asleep. Worse, who know how Thomas will react if that long was long enough. She could see her mother reflected in the mirror of the dressing table. She was lying on the bed but she moved underneath the sheets, her head thrown back, sinking into the bed, and the sounds she made, her breathing strained. She can felt the vibration on the bed over her head, increasing its pace. Lucille could also see a tiny hand pocking by the holes in the drape, _Thomas_. Her mother's body moved faster until the woman let out a scream, the creaking on the bed stopped and her mother closed her eyes, her chest moving up and down to get air, one breast exposed. Lucille took her chance, rolling from behind the bed to the drape in the second her mother close her eyes, she was able to catch the little boy that was about to crawl under the fabric. With the same impetus she pulled Thomas and herself back into the passage. In the rush the key had slip away from the girl's nightgown pocket, and the treasure was left there, halfway between the bed and the wall. Lucille noticed it, but her mother too.

She put the loose plank back and carried Thomas, running as fast as she could, but they will never make it on time. While her mother put on the robe and seized the issue, Lucille had made it to the service tray, she helped Thomas climb in, and she hurt her hands pulling the rope so fast. Mrs. Sharpe was sure she was left the key on the table. She picked it up and walked to the wall. _Could it be?_ She thought. The idea of one of the maids sneaking on her was disgusting. She lifted the drapes to find the door but when she tried it was locked. She has the key of course and once it was open she followed the passage to the room it connected, it was locked too. Maybe she was just imagining things. Her mind changed after she went back in her path, when she closed the room's secret door the loose plank fell with a sounding plop. It left a small space, the size perfect for... a child.

Agnes Sharpe walked, no, ran to the third floor, the nursery the door was also locked. When she entered the room she found Lucille sounds asleep. The boy was in the crib. She checked over the girl and left the room. There was no way the girl had left the nursery and get into her bedroom passage, going through two locked doors. Of course, she was exaggerating in her worries.

When the door had closed, Lucille counted to twenty, just in case her mother was still listening in the other side of the door. Finally, she released the breath she was holding. She ran to the door of the service tray room. The first time she had opened that door, she was two and a half and her mother had decided she was old enough to sleep alone in the nursery. Until then Adelaide had sleep in the room next to hers in the nursery. She was not scared but she had missed Adelaide a lot. Lucille had climbed out of the bed and wandered to the main door but she couldn't twist the doorknob, it was locked. The other door was Adelaide's room, and there was a fourth door in the small corner after the nursemaid room. She had never noticed it nor seen what was in the other side. When she tried the doorknob it budget and she found herself in a small space occupied by a spiral staircase, a cabinet and a table, a basket below the table with fabric lining. The furniture was next to a door that didn't touch the floor or it was a window? The door opened to the sides revealing a wooden box, as big as the basket on the floor. She turned the basket up down to use it as a step tool. When she climbed in the wooden tray she noticed she had plenty space, but the box fell with her weight. It went fast in the dark space between the walls and she was too scared to move. It had stopped in the second floor where her parents' bedroom was. She didn't step out nor speak, paralyzed in terror. After a while, she had open the service door and stepped out, trying to walk back through the stairs. Her mother had found her and that earned her a punishment. Adelaide confessed to forget locking the door, just to appease the reprimand to the child. It didn't work as intended but Lucille appreciated it nonetheless. Adelaide was convinced of it; otherwise the girl was not able to get out of the room. It wasn't until Lucille had been three that she discovered how the 'secret box', as she called it, worked. That had inaugurated the season of her night expeditions through Allerdale Hall.

She went off the bed and ran to the service room. Once there, she pulled the rope to get the box on the floor level, she had been afraid that Thomas would cry, but she discovered he was fall asleep on the container box. She couldn't have carried him on time and less made him fake to be asleep. It was a luck her mother had not watched close to the crib or else she had noticed the doll placed under the blankets as a deception. If it had been Nana or Adelaide they would have noticed immediately, they both knew that no matter how many times they were set to sleep apart, the children always were to be found together in the morning. Lucille regretted that all the risk had been in vain. Despite everything, it had been good to have a partner in crime and adventure. Thomas was growing and she was enjoying every stage on the boy development. Finally she settled on the bed with her brother falling asleep too. She didn't hear the click of the door locking, concealing their secret escape path. She never had paid attention to the fact that Adelaide had locked it once, and like that it was every time the old maid had tried the doorknob from time to time.


	6. Sugar-coated ventures

The wind blew again with strength announcing once more the Cumbrian winters. In its pass through Allerdale it squirms, free to roam every exposed area of the great manor. It whistle when traveling through the chimneys and roars in the main hall, where the sky can be seen through the hole on the roof and the snow will drift placid falling to the floor, replacing the furious rains of fall. The master is expected to arrive soon, and the children will expect no more presents that their father return. They know not to bother her mother asking questions about the man they fondly call father, or about the festivities that the housekeepers try to keep alive for the children's sake, if only to keep the tradition and cheer up the souls, master or not master there to celebrate the season with his family.

The grass is almost all dried with the cold, and the rains had washed the land, allowing the crimson clay to show off in puddles. Soon the snow will cover everything for the eye to see, making notorious the contrast of white and red. The land's treasure will leak up in places as the ground around the deposits gets frozen, especially near the house. The manor will stand there, surrounded by red spilled snow, a stained white coat around the giant bleeding heart, barely beating, waiting.

The children greeted the seasonal change no matter the cold that penetrated their small bodies up to their bones. Three days after their father had finally arrived and their mother was still in good spirits. Enough to allow them have super in the dining hall with her and their father. The man was in a good mood too, unusual. Lucille always hoped for the winter to be strong and implacable, so her father cannot travel back and her mother limited her movements to the few rooms that were keep warm on the house. The nursery was one of them, but she never stayed there for long. But the fall was just receding, and even if it was cold, the temperature was more than bearable with only an additional layer of clothes over the shoulders.

Adelaide had waked them up earlier, carrying a tray with porridge and sweet tea, altogether with a bit of unusual and fresh news.

"Well there is a surprise for you two little angels!" she said clapping her hands, making it to sound like a song.

"Will you prepare bread with nuts for super?" A fair guess from Thomas, considering that it was Adelaide - or Nana - the ones that usually indulged the children with any good surprise.

"Well yes, that is the one the Master's favorites, but that is not what I was talking about" Lucille looked are her plate, not showing interest.

"Well little Miss, won't you try to guess at least?" Adelaide tried to get her involved in the conversation.

"I don't like surprises anymore, not since the last one was that horrible tutor?" Lucille sighted.

"Can I eat the surprise?" Thomas asked.

"That's the spirit! See child it cost nothing to have a little enthusiasm like Thomas dear"

"Can I eat it now?" The boy was more than hungry, he had devoured the breakfast, but his growing body demanded more nurture than the children usually got. Her mother made sure they weren't feed in excess, having them as she knew they have little physical activity.

"Oh I'm sorry Thomas, but it is not food. The Master and Mistress are taking both of you to town!"

"What?" Lucille stopped so suddenly that almost fell from the chair. "To the town?"

"Yes little mistress," Adelaide said.

"Me and Thomas?" The child's voice was pure incredulity.

"For sure, I'll pick your best clothes to dress and for the little Master, well he is in need of new clothes, let's see what we can do for him." Adelaide told trying to sort something that will fit the boy not too tight.

Thomas was growing at an amazingly fast pace, tall and slim. In the last months nothing fitted him well, the pants still buttoned on his waist, but they cover only a little below his knees. Adelaide dressed him in Lucille's old wool stockings, in an attempt to protect his pale legs from the cold. The shirts were also short and the arms almost up to his elbows. An old jacket from the Master's childhood was fit over him, it had a double function, keep him warm and avoid his bellybutton to be showed ungracefully. He looked like a peasant boy in old unfitting clothes. But it was not by lack of budget to afford clothes for the boy. Lucille always got new clothes, dresses for winter and summer made in fine fabrics, shoes, bows, undergarments, nightgowns; these were usually delivered while her father was on France after the mines were closed for the year. He had never ordered clothes for the boy though, he had left that job to his wife, he has no idea of the boy measures, which were not the ones expected from a regular boy his age. The Mistress had supposed to take the boy to town for measuring or send for a tailor in order to get clothes for the boy. Doyle had been given orders to supply the necessary amount for this, but the Mistress had simple ignored the task. For the first two years, the boy had used his sister's baby gowns, those that were plain and unisex, and easier to manage as long as the boy used diapers. For the last year, he had used the only clothes available in the manor for a boy; these were old relics of the Master's childhood, saved by her mother as a memory of her son's infancy. They were few garments well conserved, the ones that were not ruined by the moths or the mold.

The clothes Thomas had worn for the unique occasion he had been presented to society had been ripped open, too old to stand for another wash. They were also baby clothes in the attic, the ones bought for the stillborn babies, those the Mistress had forbidden to be touched, even less used. Adelaide fitted Thomas in the little jacket, a river of memories flowing through her head. She had a child once, well almost. She had nothing to remind her of him, he had born too far to term that the form was barely recognizable as a human figure. She knew, in a way, the feelings of the Mistress. For if she had pass through that kind of lost more than once, she would have end in madness, as the Mistress was. What she cannot understand, was why the woman despised her born children. In that place in the middle of nothing, with an old house surrounding them full of sad and bad memories, those two little children were the only ray of light and hope. She was sure that her sister thought the same.

"With mother and father?" Lucille question interrupted Adelaide's thoughts for good. Some secrets in Allerdale where better if never speak about again.

"Well yes, who else. Is that so unbelievable?"

She girl shrugged her face in uncertainty.

"How is the town?" She asked nonchalant.

"Simple, noisy, smelly, carriages everywhere, and people walking from one side to other"

"Why?"

Because towns are like that and people is noisy?

"No" the girl corrected herself, "Why people move from side to side?

"Because they have things to do to earn their life, work, sell, pray, study, there is a task for everyone, no matter if they are rich or poor"

"Are there children?" She was sure the answer was yes, and she wouldn't like it.

"Lot of them"

"What they do?"

"I don't know, play, work, and go to school?"

"School? work.. like father? Can I do those things?"

"Too much questions for one day. Come, we need to bath you and prepare your brother. You two will have a lovely day"

"Adelaide, Will you come?" Thomas asked, a suddenly worry shadowed both children faces.

"Well of course, don't you think I will miss all the joy" The three of them laughed at that.

After they were ready, they walked out of the house, this was a special occasion, Lucille thought. She had only crossed the main doors whenever her father returned from a long trip, if and only if he had send letter of his arrival before. Sometimes he didn't, and those times he usually arrived late at night, no reception committee with the personal standing for him at the manor's entrance. What was the reason for one or the other, she didn't know. One thing she was sure, it was a special day. Special enough for her mother to allow them to go to the town for first time in their life. The stable was the far she had ever been out of the house. Her mother had been with her, watching her vigilant. She had not hold her hand, nor allowed her to touch the horses. Jory had feed them and brush them for her so see, he winked an eye to her when her mother didn't noticed. She had longed to see the horses from close again. But today, they will go to town, which meant... They will go in a carriage, like father does, pulled by the horses, with Jory guiding them. And Thomas would be with her and Adelaide, and father and mother.

They settled to ride for the town before noon; the travel had been very quiet. Her parents in one seat and Adelaide with her and Thomas in the opposite side. Lucille wasn't expecting conversation, nonetheless from her father inquiring about her education.

"So Lucille, Mr. Sutton and I talked about your advances with your lessons, and he praised your effort and perseverance" Instead, she thought it was Mr. Sutton the one perseverant in using the stick. "I've been also said that you are taking good care of Thomas" This had been Nana and Adelaide doing for sure.

"I... yes father"

"And how are you enjoying the piano with your mother"

"Very much father" She said without hesitation.

The truth was that she wasn't enjoying the piano at all. First, because that meant Thomas remained mostly alone in the nursery, while she was to sit straight and remember the right keys. That was almost impossible, there were too many and they all looked the same, white or black. Second, because her mother make her repeat forever at each mistake. If she was not in her best mood, Lucille was left for hours until her fingers went numb. Her mother also has a passion for adding the prayers to the punishments. She made her repeat and recited the prayers while trying to decide they right keys, making the task even harder. Lucille won't dare to complain to his father, less in front of her own mother.

"She will do just fine in no time" Her mother said half a smile on her face.

Lucille didn't know if that was a subtle complain or a compliment. In fact, she didn't pay attention to what her mother or anyone said, she was just mesmerized by the scenery. The land melting in brown and dark patches, populated with leafless bushes and trees. The town itself was an carnival for the child eyes, soon she was overwhelmed with so many new things, everywhere was something different to see, people, carriages, smells and noises, as Adelaide had said. It was just wonderful, and scary in a way. There was a country fair so the town was more lively than usual. They stopped in a store with a big glass window. A gown was standing like if someone had been wearing it on, but no one was. The interior was filled shelves, dresses and also suits, she noticed they were not empty but supported in a metal frame, shaped like a human torso. The place held so many things, but it was small, the size of one room in Allerdale. She wondered if all the town people lived in small houses like this one. She was curious and afraid, holding one of Thomas hands all the time. With the other, the boy grabbed Adelaide's as it the world depended on it, he was truly nervous and just wanted to be back at home, in the security of the nursery.

The shelves of the store were filled with fabric in several colors and beautiful patterns. Lucille let her hand to set over the exquisite fabrics and feel the textures. A man spoke to her parents, and then went to Thomas, measuring him with a stick and a cord. A younger man wrote in a paper as the first man spoke. When she looked back for Thomas, he was bundled between mother and father, both them nodding and speaking to the man, who at the same time commanded the other to fetch clothes and pictures. Lucille went speechless when her father stared at Thomas, eyes fixed on the boy, and then her mother did the same, caressing Thomas cheek with her hand, in a way...she never had seen before, so tender, lovely. The feelings that grew inside her, she didn't like it. She wanted to take Thomas from hers hands and run away as fast as she could. But she couldn't, not with Adelaide pulling the boy behind the screen and out of her sight. Finally, after being undressed and dressed again he walked out in clothes that fit him properly, pants long to the calves, socks and boots, and a long sleeve shirt with a vest and a matching jacket. He looked like a miniature version father, gorgeous, Lucille thought. Thomas remained in the new outfit as the shop assistant picked up his old clothes and put them in a bag, then wrote the order placed by the parents regarding the clothe items that will be tailored for their son, they nodded or rejected to the fabrics suggestions from the shop employees, mostly his father. Lucille tried to pull next to Thomas, in her attempt Adelaide interfered again, "Oh no little Miss now is your turn" and she pulled Lucille behind the screen. She was in horror, after she had tried the gown she notice that her parents where not on the establishment, neither was Thomas.

"They went ahead miss, but don't you worry we'll join them in no time"

Still, the time they had waited in the store felt forever. At last, the attendant put the dress and Thomas adjusted new clothes into several boxes. Jory entered in the establishment just on time to take the purchased garments, and went out after speak with Adelaide. She and Adelaide had walked into the streets, there were more people than when they had arrived to town, but she paid no attention, scanning the place for a glimpse of Thomas. Finally they approached a big house made of... fabric, a circus tent she though. It looked nothing like the model she had to play, that was stripped in bright colors; instead this was plain muddy beige. Still it was amazing nonetheless.

"What is that?" She said in awe, she was astonished by the size. It must be to hold elephants inside, right.

"A tent. Let's go, the masters must be close"

There were a lot of people. Some were lined up after a person holding a box, yelling the name of the spectacle and the admission's price.

"Ladies and gentlemen, children, come to see 'The golden Goose', a show to delight the whole family! Only half a crown adults and two shillings for the children. Plenty of room still folks…"

Adelaide and Lucille walked along the line, and Lucille watched a family standing together. The man dressed very much like father, with a hat and a tie, the woman holding her arm dressed in a beautiful dress and hat, and two children with a nanny. The boy, taller than her for few inches, and the little girl close to Thomas in age, she held her mother's hand. The boy eyes meet her casually, and remained while a smirk appeared in his face.

"There, I see them, let us go" Adelaide interrupted the children staring battle.

Her father was already waiting for them. "Good! You are here, let's get in"

Inside there were benches around a big space with a wooden floor raised up one step level. Her father guided them to mother and Thomas and they all took seat. She was relieved to see Thomas and impressed there where so much people inside, many of them where children.

Her mother held Thomas hand, and he didn't go to meet her, Adelaide took sit next to him, and Lucille remained at her side. In the open space the show begun and she saw people dressed funny and acting weird. It was not a circus after all, it was a performance, but she was not really paying much attention. She had seen the family with the boy not far from their spot. The boy crouched under the bench and sneaked out below wooden tables and people's legs, unnoticed. Lucille could not avoid curiosity and decided to follow him, not before checking on her parents and Adelaide. The old woman was very engaged at the spectacle, same as Thomas at her side. It was a luck that Adelaide bulky body served as an obstacle covering her from her mother's direct line of sight, unfortunately Thomas was at her other side, next to mother's. The boy was amazed watching the character that had introduced himself as 'simpleton' in his exaggeratedly clumsy manners. The boy stared still, mouth agape. Not that Lucille doesn't like it, it was also a novelty for her, but so far life had proven her that things that were out of boundaries where far more exciting than the few ones that where freely granted or allowed, Thomas be the exception, even if the responsibilities of raisin a baby had been overwhelming at the beginning. Anyway she will do this, and Thomas was not able to follow her. Temptation had grown in her, and she had developed a liking in unveiling concealed, forbidden things, secrets. Also, sneaking out was something she had become very good at.

Lucille ran after the boy moving under the benches as well. When she reached the tent walls, she slipped away down the heavy tarpaulin. Her legs sprinted around the crowd, there were people lined in front of stands, others just gathered around with no order, some others were having food, which was curious for _How can people eat while standing up, without plates and cutlery?_. The girl realized how much she ignored about the people and the life outside Allerdale Hall. In the stands some people displayed several items, fruits, clothes, hats, glass bottles. Others had funny things like the little animal dressed up with little clothes. A monkey it was, she had seen it in one of the books in the nursery. A man stood behind a small table with cups placed upside down on it. His hands moved fast, shuffling the cups from their position. The monkey pointed to one and the when the man lifted it there was a flat round piece.

The animal screeched and hissed, showing his teeth when Lucille came close to see it. She halted, almost stumbling when she moved one step back. Laughs. When she turned to see who caused the sound she saw several children, a boy pointed at her openly while a pair of girls giggled without discretion. Anger rose up on her throat, the kind that usually makes her want to cry, but she knew how to hold that feeling at bay. So she ran from the scene, passing intentionally between the girls, pushing them apart and make them both fall into the dirty ground. She didn't stop, not to take vengeful pleasure in the girls' cry, not until she found a concealed corner, free from everybody's sight.

People where everywhere, it was difficult to not run into someone, the place has transformed into a termites nest, infested with people and bustling children. It was difficult to imagine how so many people could live in the town. Her initial motif was now forgotten, and now she felt miserable, wondering how she will find the way back to his family, to Thomas. Deeply she regretted the moment her mind approved her to leave him behind, and so she begin to walk out of the dark corner where she had sat to sulk on her decisions.

"Wait!" someone called her.

Lucille stopped, turning around to see who had spoken to her. It was the boy, the one she had been after.

"Wait girl..." Lucille walked to him, squinting in the dark to discern the boy's face veiled in shadows.

"What do you want?" The boy spoke again, while the girl remained silent like a cornered animal watching a predator, ready to strike back.

"I saw you following me, what are you following me?" She perceived curiosity in his voice and also reserve.

It was obvious that this one was smarter, Lucille thought. He was not expecting to be followed, and was not pleased in his discovery, but it was obvious that she intrigued him in the same way that he had intrigued her, which was the initial reason for her to follow him.

"I ...You sneaked away, Why?" She responded, regaining her confidence with a thrown back inquire.

"Why?" He asked again, more than annoyed, what was the problem with this meddling girl? He didn't liked girls, and this in front of him was becoming a nuisance. "I do what I want, that's why"

"A child is not allowed to go by himself!"

"What? I'm no child, I'm almost a man!" The boy stood up straight in an attempt to look bigger and intimidator. "I don't need a nanny. I can get rid of that horrible woman and my impossible sister anytime. Besides, I'll be nine in three months and my father will give me my own horse to ride. Then I'll come and go as I please" He stated in a solemn tone.

"You are like the rest of them" She prepared herself to be mocked by this boy as the others had just done, as the children that had gone to Allerdale had.

"I'm not!... but you are not either. Girls don't sneak up nor disobey her parents, but you are here, why?"

"What about your parents?" She dodged the question again using another question in turn.

"They never pay attention, they won't notice my absence if I return before the end of the play" Enough of this, he thought, time was not stopping while he was being questioned by this girl.

"Won't they punish you?"

"Of course, but I'm not stupid to get catch. Why do you care anyway? Look, I have something to do, so stop bothering me unless you want to partake. In that case I can share the loot with you only if you keep your mouth shout"

"Loot?, wha-?"

"Don't you know anything? Candy of course! What else is it to covet in this meager town? My father doesn't allow me to have any. He says it will give me bad teeth. But my cousin Eugene, he sneaked a piece for me in his last birthday party, since then I have improved some techniques to get more."

"Bad teeth? Do they fell?... What do you speak about?"

"Yes. No. Secrets! Girl, you ask too many questions, are you helping or not? If not, then better go back where you come from, I'm not taking care of a silly girl! "

"I'm not a silly girl, I can take care of myself, and Thomas!"

"Very well then" he replied, "here, come with me!" The boy hold Lucille's hand and pull her into a run.

They sneaked behind a stand where a woman was giving candy to some children after she took the coin they offered her in first place. Lucille'a eyes got enthusiast with the gleaming pieces of candy. She had stretched her hand as the rest of the children, but hers was empty. Someone pulled at her arm, it was the boy.

"It's not for free, we have to distract them first" He watched the girl puzzled face and added... "Or do you have any money to pay for it?"

"No" Disappointment showed on her face, of course she has no money, she had seen the metal pieces it in their parents hands, but never had held one of her own.

"This is what you will do, hold this and stand there, when she speaks to you, you'll faint, like this" The boy faked a faint, pretending to fall on the ground. "And don't forget to close your eyes until I give you the signal. Do as I tell you, and we'll be licking our hands in no time. "

"Are you sure this will work?" The girl asked.

"Of course, my cousin Eugene told me, he is twelve and has do it before"

"So you never-?"

"Enough, I'm sure!" He said this to reassure himself more than the girl.

Lucille approached to the stand without hesitation, moving to the front, she held her hand up holding the round piece tight. With the dawn light, it was hard to distinguish it was not a coin, but a thin flat rock of gray color. When the woman spoke to her, and went to pick the rock from the hand she fainted, the piece lost on the floor between a bunch of children shoes and feet. A lot of people gathered around her as she lay in the ground with closed eyes. _Now just wait for the signal_. But then she realized she didn't knew what the signal was, the boy had not told.

Had she been tricked? Her arms were being shaken by someone yelling at her, slapping her face softly. She picked to see the candy seller woman and a man with a peculiar hat and cape. "Where are the parents of this child? Is always the same, in these days, isn't it?" The man said aloud.

Lucille opened her eyes and pointed to a random direction to placate the adult's questions about her parents. "Stay here" the man said to the woman. This nodded to the man and soothe the girl "There, there girl, the officer will fetch your parents in a minute"

With that as a cue, Lucille stood up and ran away as fast as she could, the woman yelling after her, "Wait, girl, wait!" and her the tone changed when she realized that part of her merchandise had been lost, "Thief, stop that girl! Thief! Come back you urchin!" Lucille missed the officer hurrying back to the candy stand where the woman hollered and claimed him to catch the thief girl back.

Lucille only stopped next to the tent, the tarpaulin lifted beside her and she was pulled in by a hand. She felt rage when she watched the boy, his face exposing a full teeth smile.

"Well done girl, awesome performance! This is more than earned," he handed her a hand full of candy, and another. "You should have seen their faces, the woman was about to cry, she thought you had die!"

Lucille stood there, looking at the boy. He was praising her, smiling. There was not horror nor disappointment nor disdain, and she felt satisfaction. She laughed and the boy too, both laughed and sat under the tent, below the public that watched the performance, stuffing their mouths in candy. Her face was covered in chocolate, and he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket offering it to her.

"Not bad" he said, with a sticky smirk covered in candy.

"What?" she asked.

"You. Not bad for being a girl" He held her hand, preventing her from eating a red candy. "Not that one, it will paint your tongue red and you would get into trouble. Save it for the night, when everyone is sleeping" Lucille put the red candy aside, and the boy offered her a honey colored piece instead.

The candy was really sweet and she enjoyed it. How come her father never had brought those to home? The boy seemed to foresee her thoughts.

"Parents don't like children eating candy. You see, too much can damage the teeth. I'll save the rest of my part, so I can have a piece for especial occasions, it will my secret." That brought a smile to Lucille's face.

"I will save these for my brother" Lucille thoughts wandering on secrets shared with Thomas.

"Your brother is only a baby. Babies can swallow a candy accidentally and get chocked"

"Thomas is not a baby, he won't choke!" She said, her mood turned in a twist.

"Whatever, I won't stop you" The boy lifted both hands in surrender.

"Will you give some to your sister?" She asked in a calmer tone.

"Oh no, she will tell father and he will punish me right away."

"Did he... hit you?"

"Sometimes, he said I'm incorrigible. Mother instead, she'll never do it, but if she is really angry she will tell father. That's about the same, right? What about your parents?"

"I ... I don't see them much"

"Well lucky you. Hey watch this" He pointed to the scenery, where the simpleton man dressed in regal clothes married the princess but got tangled in the bride's veil in his kiss attempt, making the audience to laugh. "My father said they are all men, the performers, they dress up as women as well."

"For real?" Lucille asked with incredulity.

"Yes. I don't know why, but it is funny, don't you think? Pretending to be someone else" The actors gathered all together, then lift both hands and made a courtesy.

"That's our signal, let's go. Put it in your pockets" They boy said regarding the remaining candy.

"I don't have pockets"

"Then there," the boy said helping Lucille to hide the candies in the front of her dress. "See, nobody will notice"

While the people on the benches stood up and clapped, Lucille climbed back to her seat, next to Adelaide.

"Wait, your name, I must know" The boy said, pulling her from below the bench.

"Lucille"

"I'm Peter. It was a pleasure my lady" he said, kissing her hand, then he ran and she watched his curly blonde hair disappearing over the benches not far from her. He made it just in time to be found by his mother, she never suspected the boy had leave the seat in first place.

The return to Allerdale was quiet for Lucille. Thomas instead, had never spoken so much in his entire life. He had been mesmerized and amazed, holding to the images on his mind. He recalled the jester with the dog that jumped through the hop, the jugglers, the clowns, the magician, all them that had tried to make the princess laugh. He had got lost in his own world also, immersed in the colors and movement and sounds of the pantomime.

Their parents spoked casually, and pretended to pay full attention to Thomas which repeated his favorite parts, and asked questions about. Lucille watched Thomas and her night joy faded. She felt bad in a way, because Thomas was not part of her adventure, and she felt guilty, even when she had booty of candy hidden in her dress for him. She could not avoid thinking again in the boy; at the aftermath of the candy-steal ruse they had enjoyed the proceedings and the result. The boy had been nice, unless any other children she had met before. Well except Thomas, but he was not an ordinary boy, he was hers and so she considered him as a part or herself. A part she could not live without. That night in the nursery, she had put the candy in their hidden place, under the bedframe. She had planned to give the candy to Thomas, but the boy had been knocked out, his energy drained after the excitements of the day. She will give it to him the next day, but she would not tell how she had got it. That part she wouldn't share, at least not yet. She had said Thomas was not a baby, but still he was too young to understand. Even if he will never tell on purpose, she was not confident he won't disclosure the information accidentally. Especially when mother allured him with feigned interest in the boy's welfare and confounded him with her affectionate pats. Just a show off it was, like the pantomime, a pretend play to gain her father's attentions.

Lucille didn't mind at all to follow her mother's game; she craved her father attention too, she could empathize with her mother. She also enjoyed the motherly moments that this brought along, every minute of them. Of course she knew it was not real, like an illusion it never last. That she understood, but Thomas didn't, he will be heart-broken as soon as father left, or even before, when her mother pushed them away and impart unfair punishes again. The poor boy's nerves will eventually break unable to deal with such bipolarity. At least father was always constant. He was indeed ill-tempered to the point of fear, especially in the business affairs… or with mother. Most of the time he spent in the house he was distant and taciturn. With her and Thomas he was kind and concerned, overly formal but never harsh, not even scolding, not toward them at least. Her father bursts against her mother was other thing Lucille had kept from Thomas. She wanted Thomas not be like him in that regard, it was the only thing she truly condemned about her father. Thomas instead was a prince, a gentleman, one that will never strike his hand against a lady. He was a good boy and had stayed with his family to enjoy the show, unlike like the boy Peter, unlike her.


	7. Lost Souls

"Run Thomas, faster!"

"I am... " the boy said out of breath.

Lucille stopped to wait for her brother, and then she helped him to climb into the service tray and started to pull the rope as fast as she could. It made it to the top. Thomas was safe but she would not make it. She ran looking for a place to hide as the steps on the stairs sounded even closer. The bathroom on the second floor was her only chance, definitely the wrong place, too late to realize it.

She was in trouble and her luck was just escalating worse. Her mother may have heard the piano, it was impossible to miss the twang of the notes from the main gate. In her best luck, they might confound the sound with the wind whistling through the house.

Her parents had been out of the manor and of course she had taken advantage. It was the beginning of winter and the children had made it out of the house for the first time in the year. The summer had been long and inclement. Inside the manor the hot was unbearable and the house rotten smells stuck into their noses for the interminable days of confinement. The children's' days were scheduled around the morning and afternoon lessons, so Lucille and Thomas had to be all dressed up, the presence of the tutor imposed and restricting.

She had welcomed the nights, when they were left by themselves, and at last they could shed from the layers of clothes to fresh their bodies a little. Mr. Sutton had been unyielding, and Lucille had developed aversion toward the man, and also an outstanding ability to conceal her feelings from him. At least Thomas had been allowed to stay in the nursery, as long as he remained silent and quiet in the room. Keeping himself out of view was not an easy task for a young child, but the tutor insisted he must avoid causing distractions on his sister's education. He was a quiet boy already, but he was not used to solitude, he didn't like to be alone. The man used to be easy with the stick, but now he had changed his technique, using the affinity between the children to punish Lucille. Sometimes the man had complained of Thomas behavior in front of their mother, others he had sent him out of the room with one of the maids. Lucille would preferred the stick, she could bear it, but the man took a sadistic pleasure in torture her by the suffering of her defenseless little brother. Misbehaving was not tolerated by her mother.

Thomas never objected, nor denied, nor defended himself against whatever the man accused him. Confrontation was not in in his soul. Lucille didn't knew what tore her more, when mother had used the cane to beat Thomas in front of her, or when she was stuck in the nursery with the hideous tutor, unable to see the punishment that her mother was giving Thomas in the floor below. If she could she will beg for him, to spare him of the beat by taking his place instead, but how can she if they were separated like that. Most of the times, when they were left alone, she had inspected the boy's body looking for wounds, frequently she had found none, just the reddish cheeks and face, and his shirt so wet in tears. If not being beaten, why he trembled so much? He sometimes woke up in the nights screaming, crying. He had cried even during the day, pleading Lucille not to leave him alone.

Finally the season changed, greeting them with the news of the tutor departure. He wanted to avoid being trapped in Allerdale for the winter. The young Sharpes wanted the same, so they welcomed the dark, cold days to come, just because of the restricted freedom they were gaining back.

Mr. Sharpe had traveled and had returned on the second week of December. Through Adelaide, they got into the knowledge that there will be a party in Westlake Haven, the state belonging to Phineas Bolton and his family. The occasion was nonetheless the celebration of the engagement between the younger of the Bolton's' heirs and the second niece of Sir Adam Barnes, another union to consolidate the Bolton & Barnes lineage and the prosperity of the family business partnership. The banker families were as wealthy as well known in Cumbria, and the Sharpes were among its oldest clients. This information would be of no use to Lucille except for the implication that Mister and Mrs. Sharpe might be invited to attend.

"Did you think we may go with them?" the boys asked his sister.

"Don't get illusions, Thomas. Besides, wouldn't be better to have the place to ourselves? We can do something, anything!"

"Like what?" A curious brow shift a little up, while its pair remained frowned in concern, for there wasn't safer place than the nursery, if any, or at least when there were only the two of them.

"Explore! Maybe... the basement" she put effort in made it sound interesting.

"That place is scary, I don't want to go" he shook his head in negation.

"How do you know? You had never been there."

"It goes down to the pits of hell"

"Thomas, where have you got those ideas?" The girl said

"Mother" the boy said in resignation.

"Mother" o _f course, mother,_ "What did she say to you?"

She said... that...," - the next words left his mouth in a single exhalation, rushed one after the previous like droplets of water flowing in a frantic stream - "...that I'm bad and I'll got to the pits of hell with father- Do you think he has been there?" She noticed his tone, he was not joking about it.

"No Thomas, I think she only tried to scare you. How can she know anyway?" She switched from her childish expression to her confidant, older sister's voice.

"She is older" He stated as a matter of fact.

"Nana said that there is only the clay pits down there, and she is even older than mother"

"Why is it there?" the boy asked.

"To keep the house from flooding"

"I don't want to go there, it's scary" he insisted.

"Don't be foolish Thomas, I'll be with you. I thought you wanted to see the elevator moving."

"I want... not" he said with hesitation.

How the box moved up and down without being pulled - unlike the service tray - was a mystery he wanted to discover, but...

He had been there already. Mother had put him inside, closed the door and gave him the insightful words about the pits of hell. Just like that, the object of his fascination was transformed into in a cage and he was inside, trapped. His mother has left him there alone as a punishment. She said he will be out when he stopped to cry. He did, he couldn't make a sound and he was terrified. He was not alone in the elevator. Lucille knew he had been punished when he walked into the nursery in silence, his face swollen and red. He had curled in the bed, sucking his thumb, a bad habit he had got recently. Lucille knew not of the elevator incident, Thomas didn't speak of it. He didn't want to remember it.

Lucille noticed the distress in the boy's face.

"OK, forget the basement. What about out of the house, I'll welcome a change of scenery, if only for a moment."

"Can we?" He said, now with interest, his fears fading back into his hidden memories.

"But, What if mother knows?"

"She won't, I won't allow us to be catch!" She was most reassuring.

"But..."

"Enough with the babbling, I'll fall deaf listening at your weeping! A boy too delicate and a girl too gauche, is this my penitence?!" Lucille said making a mockery of her mother's voice and posture. Though she couldn't hold her laugh and rolled in the floor holding her stomach. Thomas laughed with her, and Lucille was glad to bring a smile in the boy instead of the haunted expression he couldn't help upon the mention of their mother.

"If she knows we laugh of her I'll will be left in a corner praying for a whole day, you too probably. Without food or even allowed to go to the bathroom" She said.

"I would be nice for a change, though." She added in a very low voice, almost to herself. Her eyes now fixed upon one of the ceramic figures on the dresser. A pair, a woman and a man in fine clothes, wedding clothes. Her brother noticed and sat next to her.

"What would be nice?" He asked, prompting her to speak up her mind.

"To be out of this place…maybe go with them to the party?"

"Party?"

"Yes Thomas, it's a party when people gather for a celebration, like a wedding or a birthday. There will be food and all people dressed in elegant clothes, and music for sure and they will dance"

She had outgrown her childish fears toward new, unknown things or people, curiosity had replaced it and the certainty that the world was bigger than Allerdale manor and there was much more to discover outside. After all, her mother had told her thousand times that she will die and what Lucille will do by herself if she cannot be married properly to someone who will take care of her. She didn't want to be married for once, or leave far away without Thomas. She needed no one to take care of her, she could do that by herself and she also cared for Thomas already. But to learn the ways of the world out there was something she needed to, and for that at least to bear the tutor lessons had a purpose. Still, she wished to be able of seeing and experiencing things for real.

"Have you, ever?"

"Yes, and you too. There was party here in Allerdale for your birthday. I remember a ball. The gowns, the gentleman and the ladies gliding through the room"

"But I cannot remember" The boy said with disappointment.

Thomas had been only a year old, so he didn't remembered. Neither could he believe that anything like Lucille was describing had happened ever in Allerdale, even less to celebrate him. No one came to their house to visit, except the doctor that checked on him from time to time.

He looked thoughtful, taking a box of old pictures from the last drawer. The pictures were handmade drawings in black ink. He watched them, familiar to the ragged edges of the yellowish cardboard pieces. He sorted them until he found the one of the woman dancing barefoot, a plain shirt and skirt, a plate holding on her hand and above her head. This was not what she spoke about, he thought then on the fairy tale dances, of course, where the princess married the common lady, making her a princess, and they had a royal wedding with a royal ball in the castle, and they danced together for all the reign too see they were happy, as it should had be from the beginning, and they lived happily ever after. There were no pictures of such a ball, he made the images on his mind from the tales and stories tell him by Nana, and Adelaide, and Lucille. And then he remembered the play, or at least pieces of it.

"Like the play?" At least he could remember that, he thought, the only memory he had from out of Allerdale. The only happy memory he had with both his parents.

"No, no like the play, that was pretend, this is for real. The gentleman asks the lady, offering his hand with a courtesy, and he guides her to follow the steps in the dance floor, holding her close" She held the ceramic figures to him. It was a trinket from her parent own wedding, Nana had said.

The boy's sight diverted to his sister, but she was not looking at him. Then he stood up, advancing slowly to her, his back straight.

"Would you dance with me?" His eyebrows raised and two dimples appeared in his cheeks when his lips pressed close, only allowing half a smile.

He made a courtesy, as he had seen the tutor does when he accompany her mother to have the tea in the inner yard.

She watched the extended hand in front of her eyes, the upper half of his body bent a little too much in a courtesy. In his gentle face she found a hidden smile, just there on the right hand corner of his mouth, upon his lips. Like Wendy's mother hidden kiss. But this one was hidden just for her.

"Of course Sir Thomas, I am delighted" She place her hand on the boys little one.

"My lady, is it my pleasure" He offered the full smile then and she smiled too.

They danced like children do, more a play than a real dance. They twirled and twirled around the room until they got dizzy and collapsed to the floor, laughing some more.

/\/\/\/\

It was not until end of January when the occasion finally arrived. The Masters of Allerdale left the house late in the afternoon. The children were left behind, because the weather was not suitable. That was what the mother said. They saw the carriage departing form the nursery window. And so their escapade will begin, they just had to wait a little more.

Adelaide had fallen asleep. Her room was now in the ground floor. When the old maid was removed from the nursery, she had keep a room in the guest floor to be close to the children, but with the presence of Mr. Sutton, the Mistress have her moved back to her old quarter in the ground floor near to the laundry yard. As usually, she had checked on the children after they had the supper, and to her best surprise both fell asleep early. She usually gave them a last check before going to bed herself later on, but they were asleep already and she could use some early rest too. It was not unusual that the Mistress required tea late in the evening when she was unable to sleep, waking up Adelaide in the process. But the masters where out, and who knew if they will return later or until the next day. The old woman relaxed when she saw the little ones dreaming like angels, so she left the room locking the door behind her. She never had agreed with this practice, but she knew not to question the Mistress commands, instead she did what she could to ensure that the children were safe while they were in the nursery on their own. During the day, Adelaide walked up and in several times to check on the children, but again, tonight they were asleep and she was particularly tired. The years were not turning graceful in her and she was tired and ran out of breath frequently.

The truth was the children were not asleep. They were very convincing and almost fell asleep for real, well at least Thomas. Lucille counted to two hundred, just in case. She wanted to be sure that Adelaide was downstairs and in her room. _One hundred and ninety two, one hundred and ninety three... one hundred and-_ "Thomas?"- _one hundred and ninety four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, two hundred!_ "

"Wake up Thomas, wake up, it is not the time to sleep" She tugged on the boy's night shirt.

"Mmnot sleeepin" the boy mumbled, rubbing his eyes with his hands.

"Of course you are not, Tom, Tom the piper's son". That would do the trick.

"Uh?... stole a pig and away he run!" He picked the blanket and ran out of the bed, Lucille chasing after him.

"Caught!" she yelled in victory, and she smiled to the laughing boy in her arms.

He hugged her back, as a child will hug his favorite teddy bear.

"Let's go, Thomas"

The children had sneaked out suited on coats and shoes, following Lucille's plan. They made it to the kitchen and used the back door to get out, it was the shorter way. Outside everything was covered in a white layer of snow, and they were perplexed to watch it from a closer perspective. They had seen the snow over the landscape from afar, through the windows. They had touched it - some snow piled up on the windowsill - and put it in their mouths to feel the ice melting in their tongues. And Lucille...

When the snow had fallen outside like rain, some of it sneaked inside the house, coating a small spot in the middle of the main hall, melting in a puddle. The mistress had complain of it so many times and Nana had cleaned it uncountable times. From the center of the main hall one can look up and around and see the magnificence of the manor's structure, the stairs connecting the floors, twisting to one side and the other like the bowels of a beast. The snow passes through a hole in the roof where the wood had started to decay. It had been there since Lucille got memory. In a stormy winter night, Lucille had stood in the same spot, below the faint rays of moon shine that found his way to the ground floor. She had seen the snowflakes like feathers floating in the air, falling gracefully all the way down, landing on her face, melting to the touch of the skin, cold but tender. There was beauty hidden in the dour scenarios of the manor, but none was aware of it, it unfolded only to her. A different kind of beauty existed in the decadence, only to be seen in the darkness.

Outside the house it was so dark, but Lucille was not afraid of the dark. And Thomas, he didn't have chance to fear in his excitement. For reason one, he was with his sister, his eternal guardian and protector, and for second it was the thrill of the novelty. It was for the first time that the children walked over the snow, so much snow. They could not avoid the need to run freely all over the place, allowing their shoes to sink up burying their legs up to the calves. They threw snow to each other, discovering the fun of snowball fights. Their hands freeze until they hurt, so they put them in their coats' pockets until they could move their fingers again. Though, that didn't deter them from keep playing, chasing after each other. They didn't bothered by the footprints they left, the snow will keep falling and it will cover them anyway. Time passed unaware, but it was still dark when they entered back in the house, they walked by the big living room where the chimney was. Thomas stopped suddenly, gazing at the wall of rock, the arch with the symbols carved on it. Lucille knew they were words in a different language, Latin, the tutor had said. She could read English, but that she can certainly not understand those words nor pronounce them. The same words were written in the Sharpe family crest, embroidered on a tapestry in her father's studio.

"Let's go Thomas," Lucille said, but the boy was immobile. When she held him, she noticed he was shaking.

"You are trembling, it must be the cold. Let's go upstairs to warm up". But the boy only pointed to the hearth.

"There is nothing there Thomas, let's go" She pulled his arm to make him move.

A noise made her stop. Outside, a carriage was approaching.

"Wait, wait here Thomas, and don't move" She ran toward the main gate, climbing in one of the stand tables to see through one of the windows. A carriage indeed was approaching to the main gate and it could only be her parents.

When she climbed out to fetch Thomas she heard the piano, the notes sounding loud in disarrangement. _Thomas what are you doing!_

She had only advanced three steps toward the hall when Thomas came running out from the place. He looked scared, and embraced her but she stopped him in his intent to seek comfort, there were more urgent things to worry about.

"We need to be up, come on" She grabbed the boy's hand and ran dragging him through the stairs.

"Hup hup, Whoa!" the voice sounded loud, a man's voice. It' was Jory, commanding the horses to stop

More voices, they turned into an undistinguished chatter while the children hurried upstairs. They had just reached the second floor when the main door opened, and the echo of the voices became louder and clear again.

"I'm sure it was the piano" A woman's voice, mother.

"It must be the wind. You're only looking for an excuse to avoid my question" Father's.

"The wind must be. I'm just much tired and freezing. Why don't you refresh yourself while I'll pour some warm tea?" Of course she intended to ask Adelaide for the tea, and of course Arthur noticed her dodging, and her plotting for an evasive action. She hadn't acknowledged his inquire yet.

"I think not, I'll go to bed, I'm tired too" he said feigning to drop the topic.

"I'll will join you in no time then, let me fetch some blankets"

Lucille heard the footsteps walking up stairs and they ran like the devil was after them.

"Run Thomas, faster!" On the floor above Lucille hurried her brother in a desperate whisper.

"I'm.. !" the boy struggled to keep his breath.

Mrs. Sharpe walked down the hall and opened the linens closest; she picked up an extra blanket and motioned toward the third floor. She decided to check on the children, but she had forgotten the keys ring, anyway the nursery's door was locked, as she confirmed. Maybe Arthur was right, the east wind used to make chirping sounds, a reverberating howl that can be confused with a child crying or a piano moaning its notes while being hit viciously.

She was really tired, the ride back had been cold, and the effect of the three glasses of wine she had took still lingered. Still the prospect of having sex and fell asleep fully relaxed was enticing, but Arthur had drunk without measure, barely holding his composure at the party, she knew he will be no use for her in that estate. She'll take a bath, a long one to give him time to fell asleep first. She didn't want the few enjoyment of today to be ruined by her hard headed husband.

Walking across the hall she stepped on something. It felt slippery under her shoes, a few drops of water spilled, close to the main bathroom. Probably Adelaide had dropped something and didn't notice. The old woman was getting messy, it was becoming more frequently that a bucket or a tray fell from her hands. She would prefer the woman to be removed from Allerdale, her sister too, older Nana was stronger build for work but she had a galloping hearing loss. The pair of old owls will soon need to be taken into care, for they won't be of any help if they could not do the house chores. She didn't deny that they had, for years, performed their work relentlessly, devoted to care for her, guarding with their silence the unveiled ails of her body and mind, from the many days of solitude and hardships. She will talk Arthur into find a suitable replacement; send the women to spend their senile years at their home with their family. She knew they had younger siblings, Adelaide had never married, and Nana and Abbott had never had children of their own. Arthur had a fondness for the lot, as they had been in Allerdale since before he was born, in some ways he spoke about them as they were family, fool sentimental. They respected her as their Mistress and kept themselves according to their station, and Agnes respected them in return for that. But they were servants no more no less, that was the way of life as she had been taught, ladies don't mingle nor befriend with the servants. This, her father had also taught, a lady should keep her distance and decorum, a gentleman too. That she could vouch, that her father never, ever laid eyes on the house maids, less another part of his body, unlike Arthur.

With all his name and title Arthur could be such a vulgar man, she doubted not that he still frequented brothels, the less respectable ones. While mourning of her second child, she had been warned about men's infidelity by Lilly, Lillian Wright, back then when she received infrequent social visitors in Allerdale. Lillian had become aware of his husband's - second husband at that time - infidelity with a high class woman from London. The wench was a recently married 'lady' that had taken to spend the summers with her family in Carlisle. They had tried to keep a secret affair, but he had passed away in an unfortunate accident. Lillian had never the opportunity to confront him about her discovery, or that she had told Agnes. To the public eye, he had died an honorable man. That were the ways of people of society, scandal must be avoided at any cost.

Arthur Sharpe was cut from a different kind, he had a title, 'Baronet', inherited from his great grand grandfather or so, but he never was addressed like that in Allerdale. Only those that didn't know him referred him as 'Sir'. He had the regal the posture of a man of nobility, schooled to engage in rationale conversation, elegant manners one would desire in a lover, polite and fair in manners toward others, but mercurial. With the right trigger, usually alcohol, he could switch to a loud brawler, prone to skirmish, and fist fights. That had made him a man of few friends. Those that had met his father had once hoped that the wife will mother the spoiled brat into a grown up man. They had lost hope eventually, a shame to his father memoir. His circle of acquaintances ranged the entire spectrum from tolerance to indifference, liking him more or less, or not at all. The women instead, all of them dreamed to be in Agnes shoes. A blend between charm and masculinity, they had commented. - _"How come you allow him to travel so far, I'll go with him every time" -_ She wanted that too. In the party she had engaged in women's idle chat, they had spoken about men of course, and she had enjoyed it, until the spotlight turned on her husband. They used words like _'handsome'_ and _'gentleman'_ to refer him. She got bored quickly, found an excuse to disentangle herself from the conversation, she had different thoughts about her _'handsome gentleman'_ husband. He could be a gentleman when he wanted, but he never wanted it with her, for her.

Engaged in her thoughts she diverted from her initial destination, and walked instead into the bathroom. A hot bath would be appreciated by her body as she was chilly. Arthur had 'decided' to return early, cutting her from her only moment of freedom in a long time. It was expected of him to attend with his whole family, after all the Bolton's were people that valued family on first hand. Arthur thought it will benefit Lucille to be exposed to these settings. Of the boy he told nothing, but Agnes had convinced him that the children could be easily excused for their early age and the harsh weather.

She has not felt so alive in years. She had danced and engaged in normal talk, with normal people. How she had missed that, she used to watch the parties that her family used to hold before her mother had died, and even after, there had been several more to present her sisters in society, followed by engagements and weddings. Now that seemed so far away, her life had been ruined and buried, reduced to that gloomy manor in that abandoned piece of land in the end of the world. The reception had been lovely, the place magnificent exulting opulence, the food exquisite, and the music eloquent, she even had danced with several gentlemen, all in the good spirit of high society class. She wanted to dance with her husband as soon as the music started, _"Let's wait, there is no hurry, go speak with the ladies and blend first, don't you want to give a wrong impression to these fine gentlemen"._ Arthur was a great dancer, but the night advanced and she doubted his reflexes would remain as fine. He would, if he had not drinking as he was, and his feet were not a little stumbling. She better abandoned the idea of dancing, to save herself from an embarrassment. It had been Mr. James Barnes the bride's father, that asked her first to dance, of course she accepted, otherwise it would be rude. But as soon the piece had ended another gentleman had asked her. She enjoyed herself, while her husband stood with other men speaking of business and men jokes. He was laughing, and speaking too loud for her taste. She decided to ignore it, most probably he will end up making a fool of himself, so she would enjoy while she could before get into everybody's target of gossip on account of Arthur unplanned stupidity. It came as predicted, for he had eventually approached and grabbed her by the arm, a little too firm, impeding her to accept another invitation and speaking like a prick to the startled man.

"She is not in disposition to dance the next piece!"

Then he walked her out, without allowing her an option. She pretended to feel indisposed for real, when their host, Mr. Bolton himself caught them at the door asking why they had to leave so early.

Arthur had been quiet in the ride back, throwing looks at her, sipping from his pocket tin of whiskey. She remained silent. The only noise that could be heard was the wind whistling against the carriage, the horses' steps and the occasionally clucking and smooching of Jory commanding the horses.

/\/\/\/\

Arthur was not on the bedroom when she entered with the blankets. The discarded tin on the floor was empty. He probably went to the studio to fetch more liquor. He can drown himself downstairs if he wanted so, with good luck he will fall asleep in a couch, she didn't care as long as he find a place other than next to her. She grabbed a night gown and went to the bathroom.

Lucille had hid there, unfortunately she had not noticed that the snow over her coat had melted and dripped on the floor below her. Her mother had entered in the bathroom, and a few seconds later her father had follow. He approached her mother, suddenly twisting her in a single pull of his arm.

"What? Arthur wait!"

"How curious, I told you _'that'_ before you took the liberty to dance with a total stranger" His tone was accusing and condemnatory.

"You ignored me since we arrived, Arthur. I only asked you to dance as couples do... Did I better refuse Mr. Bolton or Sir Richard or Roy Jr. Barnes? I don't think that rejecting them would looked polite at all"

"So you have a list, but you know is not them I'm speaking about!"

"Let's better go to bed Arthur, you clearly drank too much tonight"

"Who. Is. Him?!"

 _"Chopin Waltz in A-flat major, a beautiful piece and most joyful, perfect for this merry gathering, don't you think my Lady?" - "A jolly waltz, it's perfect indeed" - "Ah, but a perfect waltz requires of course, a perfect dance companion, Would you be mine?" The man had bowed his head in a curtesy, offering his hand to her. -"But I'm afraid Sir, we have not been introduced" -"Karl Ritmüller, my Lady, but my friends call me Charles." There was something mysterious an appealing in the man. She glanced toward Arthur, who was clearly not paying attention to her. She will not remain thrown at a side, so she conceded. -"Well then Charles, it will be my honor."_ They had dance three, not, at least five pieces, and they had talked a while. His family was doing business on England; they were craftsmen of musical instruments. They had a common topic of conversation, for he did appreciated music and played the piano himself. She had not cared if he was a royal heir or a disowned twelve son of a broken banker. She had felt so lively, like a butterfly stepping out of her cocoon, flapping his delicate and colorful wings for others to see.

"I don't now Arthur, but sure you do, you are the one that travels all the time. You have right to a normal life, be part of society and attend to elegant parties. Who knows how many 'ladies' you have taken to dance and then sweet talk to a dark empty corner to fornicate"

"Enough!"

"That I said to you! If you really want to know, his name is Karl and he is a really good dancer. It could have been be you, dancing with me, enjoying the night. But it was you, as always, who threw it away, and now are you jealous? Unbelievable"

"It's that what you wanted, to make me jealous, in rage? Well I'm now, so deal with it" He grabbed her by the wrist, before her hand collided with his face.

She had dared to raise her hand against her, again. He slapped her back with all his strength. The wrist being held by him was the only thing impeding her to fall to the floor completely.

"Please stop!" She pleaded.

He slapped her, again.

"You dirty whore" He let her wrist go with a push.

Agnes stumbled and tried to get out of his way, but he pinned her and she fell next to the bath tub. He grabbed her, but not to help her up, his hand pulling down the dress corset to reveal her breast.

"No Arthur, please" She was silenced by his mouth.

He bit her, her lips, her neck, and her exposed white breast.

"I'll take you where I want and when I want on this house, and you will concede either you want it or not. Haven't I told you this before? And yet you make me repeat myself again and again. But I know you want this, don't you? Greedy whore, I'll give what you want."

He lifted her dress skirts and untied his pants.

"I found your little toy, you know" he said penetrating her painfully. She felt sore as he started to pound on her merciless, holding her arms against the cold floor.

"It is that any better than me, does it pleasure you, Oh no! You want a real man, right? Well I want you to picture this, cause it's me, me not 'Karl' or anyone - me, the only one you are allowed to feel, not even yourself. Does this excite you, whore? That you are, a whore, aren't you. Now say it!"

"Please"

"Please what, stop?" He stopped.

"No, please don't- stop" She was about to reach her orgasm, she was used to this, to him taking her like this, rough, uncaring, cruel. She didn't wanted it, but her body was tamed beyond repair, this was the ultimate way in which she gained pleasure, and now she was on her peak. The pain on her cheek, on her body, all forgotten just for a moment, the moment when adrenaline and lust combined. She craved for it, for him, to deny it was a lie. He had conditioned her to accept this, and to enjoy it, and for that she hated him. She will hate him more for this, later, but right now she needed him.

"You slut, you don't deserve it. Is that what you thought while moving with him, that it could be he and not me fucking you! No. I don't like to be played fool, Agnes. You should have learned that by now. But don't you worry, I'll remind you, one way or another you will learn."

With that he pulled off her and finished himself in front of the toilet one hand against the wall to make him steady, the other bringing his excitement to an end. He cleaned himself with a towel and buttoned his pants leaving her on the floor, her body in need of the denied release. It was for her humiliation, and she remained on the floor, rolling to a side, tears rolling on her eyes, until... she saw the water... footprints, small footprints indeed.

She stood up, fixing her dress and wondering why there was water here too.

Lucille was trembling behind the bin, with her eyes closed and her arms wrapping her knees toward her chest. She was pulled so hard that her feet didn't touch the floor, and then she was hold against the wall.

"You were... watching, spying on me, you little slut"

"I watched nothing mother, I swear" It was partially a lie; she had seen things, them yelling at each other, her father slapping her mother, her father... She had shut her eyes tight in fear, not of the exchange, that was not out of normalcy, but the thought of being discovered by her parents, that was something to be scared about. She had seen another thing, though she didn't knew what she had seen.

It hurt as hell when she was forced by the stairs pulled by the hair. Her mother was in a new level of fury that was not motivated by finding her outside the nursery. It was for what she has witnessed, she knew, she was so confused. She had seen her mother partially naked before, but her father, this was different. She was afraid and she didn't understand, she only knew her mother was in rage and she will be punished. In the nursery, she was thrown hard against the bed. Thomas peeped out from below the sheets to see her mother pulling up Lucille's dress, hitting her with the cane. He had tried to step on.

"Mother please, stop" He tried to hold her arms just to be showed off.

That made his mother went against the boy. He was not so small anymore, but thin as a thread, and prone to get sickness and allergies. She pulled the boy on her lap and landed two strokes on her bare bottom. The third one went into Lucille's cheek, not hard enough to break the skin as the girl had clung to her arm stopping the force of the strike. It will not leave a mark hopefully.

"So you will stand for him? Then it will be, stupid girl. You better learn early not to stand for any man; they won't deserve it, none of them!" She released Thomas to get Lucille in position against the bed, and hit forceful three more strikes.

"You are a sinner. Did you enjoy it, watching? I bet it's not the first time you do it," One blow.

"I'll get to know how you make it out as you pleases" Another.

"You and your brother will not share the bedroom any more. I won't allow you to drag him into your sinful actions" The last blow was even harder.

Lucille was knelt on a corner facing to the wall.

"Now pray for your redemption, if that is possible. Speak up aloud!"

She repeated the payers, tears rolling down, while her mother had drag Thomas to the nursemaid room locking the door with him inside. After what had feel a long time, more than ten prayers and two more strikes of the cane against her back, her mother left at last, locking her on the room the children used to share. She didn't move this time. For all the strength she always had, there was left none that night. For once, she gave free range to her child instincts and cried loud and teary. She slept herself crying. Thomas also cried, he could hear his sister cries, and he too cried loudly, calling to his sister name until his throat hurt and his voice fainted. She was in pain, and she only could think on what her mother was said, she and Thomas will have separate rooms from now on. She will die for sure, locked up, alone. And Thomas, he was not strong enough, without her he will die even faster.

It was late at night when Lucille woke up to a noise in the window.

"Thomas!" He was trembling, his hand knocking the glass. She let him in and hugged him hard.

"I'll take care of you, he said. Mother is so bad"

"Oh, Thomas, you shouldn't" But he should take care of his sister, he thought, he must.

"You shouldn't have touched the piano keys, you didn't obey me. If you had walked up when I told, nothing of this would happened" He was devastated and the guilt shock him right away. _It is my fault. I was...but I didn't play the piano, it was..._ Tears rolled again, he talked between breaths, hyperventilating.

"I saw... something, in the... hall, it was...a sha..dow " He was unsure to speak, being his claims already dismissed by Adelaide in more than one occasion.

"A shadow?"

"Of a b...oy" His voice trembled.

"Thomas, this' an old house, there are shadows everywhere. You must not fear, not the house at least"

"But it was a boy in the hall..." a loud sniff, his nose leaked to add to the mess of his face.

"It couldn't be Thomas, it was your own shadow" But the boy's thoughts where running, _It was the shadow of the boy. The boy from the elevator. But it is not real, not real, it was my own shadow. It was me, I was afraid... I am. It is my fault._ He sobbed even more, unable to stop the tears, for the pain he had caused upon her sister.

"I'm sorry Lucille! I'm so sorry" The boy's state broke her heart; she cuddled him in her arms, cleaning his little face with the corner of the blanket.

"It's it not your fault Thomas. You are a little child, you don't know things, but I know because I'm older. Promise me to always do as I say"

"I promise" He said between sobs.

Lucille looked out of the window and saw there was ledge which Thomas had used to walk by. It was not narrow but the ice made it slippery. How was he able to pass through? He could have fallen from the roof, he could have died, but he had come to her. He who was always scared, of mother, of father, of the big paints in the second hall, of the animals in the trophy room, of Mr. Sutton, of the wind making noises, of the house, and now of his own shadow. She should not had blame him, she was not right; it was not his entire fault. She should not hide in the bathroom, but where else? It was closer. She had been unfair, but after that he had overcome his fears just to be with her. It was her own insecurity that had spoken and she regretted it, she didn't want to be in separated rooms, she would found another way to be together, she must. But now she will take care of him, her precious boy.

"I'm sorry, for yelling, I was just angry, I.. never, I won't"

"Are you angry with me? "

"I could never be angry with you, I love you. I'm angry with mother, she should not beat you, it's not right"

"She beat you most"

"Don't you worry about me, I can take it. Come, you are freezing. Take off those clothes," she said taking a night shirt from a drawer. He undressed and she could see the two red lines crossing her brother's bottom.

"Does it hurt you?" She asked.

"Uh hum"

"Take these clothes" The boy discarded the clothes she handed him and climbed under the bed covers. Lucille went after him, grabbing the clothes. After tonight, she was sure that if mother caught any of them in such nudity, she would kill them for sure.

"Dress up Thomas, please"

"Let me see where you are hurt" He said, pulling at his sister clothes.

"OK" She lied on the bed face down and lifted her nightgown to reveal five lines on her bottom, and two more on her back.

"Was she so mad for the piano?"

"It doesn't matter now"

"It was... all my fault!" Tears clouded his eyes again, threatening to be spilled.

"No Thomas, it's not your fault. She never knew you went outside. I was... I just saw her and father... and she said it is a sin for a woman or a man watch each other if they are not blessed in marriage" The boy looked puzzled, until she signal to his private parts. "We are in sin now Thomas, we have always been".

"NO" Thomas said, "She is wrong. I'm... I'm your baby brother, am not?" The boy face was red, the nose leaking uncontrollably.

"I don't care" she said, and the boy's eyebrows rose. "I don't care what she tells. Sin or not, I'll love you always, but if she found us like this she will send me faraway. She said that we will have separate room now own"

"I don't want to be in a separate room, I will..I will escape and go to you!" They boy said with determination, his tear diminishing.

Lucille's spirit was settling, as usually she regained strength with the presence on the boy, her little Thomas. That her mother could never take away from her.

"I'll never allow to be separated from you. I'll do whatever is needed"

"I wish to go away, far from here, just us"

"But this is our home Thomas, I don't want to leave"

"Then I'll stay too, only for you"

"If they want to send me away, I'll run away with you. I swear it" she conceded.

"I swear it too"

"Wait" Lucille took her nightgown off, staying in her underwear. They huddled under the blankets, as they used to when they were smaller. They haven't look for this comfort in a long time, but it felt good, releasing, to be just the two of them again. The rest of the world could vanish. The moon shined over the two children lying tired, half asleep, side by side, their hands holding in assurance, pale skin and dark silk hair, their small frames innocent.

"Lucille?"

"Hmmm"

"I want to be like this always, always together"

"Never apart" she finished the sentence, it sounded reassuring. "Let's say it together, Thomas"

"Always together, never apart" the children repeated at one voice, like a mantra.

No more to say was needed, and so they rested. The boy fall asleep quickly, while the girl's heart keep beating troubled, her plagued with unpleasant images of what she had witnessed tonight and the words of her mother's reprimand.


	8. Grievances

Under the umbrella, Thomas grabbed Lucille's hand tightly. His tears streamed gloomily as heavy boulders running down a faint slope. Dead, Lucille had been told, was like sleeping forever. Father must consider her a baby to give her that explanation, she reasoned. But that was precisely what she had explained to Thomas. He was still young to understand, only a boy of five. By the age of four Lucille already knew what to be dead was and the basics of it, meaning by that, how it can be inflicted upon a living creature, a small one at least. But there was no reason for Thomas to learn things in the same way she had. Naivety could be a blessing, and Thomas would do better being unaware of the rudeness of life. Their own neglected lives and the two tragedies that engulfed his heart in grief at the present were more than enough.

Her father had not travelled at all for the last three months. During that time, the children had been secluded, and then Adelaide went sick. The misfortunate events had started after one of the regular maids feel sick with stomach cramps. Nana asked the Mistress to send for the doctor, but instead the Mistress ordered Jory to take the maid back to the town. She said it was neither her responsibility nor her concern. Didn't this girl have a family? Well they can fetch the doctor for her. She suggested in a mockery, that the young maid stomach's discomfort was from a different cause. From the second floor window, she had seen the girl treading toward the workers camp in more than one occasion, just after the sun settled, when the daily labor is done and the maids are dismissed to her rooms. The mistress smirked while picturing theories in her mind; oh she was clever, unlike that girl, the maid. _Stupid girl, it'll serve her well to carry the consequences of indulging herself in shameless debauchery._

The Mistress was partially wrong. The doctor on town, after examined the girl, sent blood samples to the Carlisle Hospital. It was Dr. Irving Randolph who had returned with the results. As a medical practitioner he was aware of the alert being held in the Northern West districts, a possible epidemic of Cholera close to the Scottish border. A medical alert was already extended in Carlisle, and all the town's doctors and medical facilities were written with instructions to immediately notify for any patient with the symptoms. In less than two weeks, a medical team arrived to Allerdale soil searching for other patients with the same condition. They found two entire families with the disease in the miner's settlement; two toddlers and an old man had died. Some other adults also carried the disease, they were weakened and dehydrated. With the conditions of malnourishment and bad hygiene in which the traveling laborers lived and worked, a contagious disease diffused fast. The quarantine order over the estate required the closing of the mine, and the prohibition for the workers to leave the area. As it was customary, it was required for the land owners to contribute in the containment efforts against a possible epidemic. And so this meant that they were expected, or so the crown expected them, to provide accommodations, nourishment and transportation for the medical personnel as well as facilitate the distribution of medication and food for the itinerant workers stuck in the property while the quarantine lasted. This as Arthur saw it, was a huge unplanned expense for the Sharpe's funds, and Doyle will need to keep a closer control of the family budget.

"That's my luck, Irving! I cannot have the production stopped for the whole summer, by fall I will be a broken man with the banks trying to bill against what I own."

"That's an exaggeration Arthur, Mr. Barnes was a good friend of your father, and he won't insult his memoir by urging his son into a moment of calamity. This is a medical alert; they won't dare to do that to anyone, less the Sharpe family who has been a fair business party for generations."

"I tremble with the sole idea of the house passing to the hands of a stranger. I'll set fire to the whole place before that day arrives. I'll lit fire to the whole patch of red clay land if that is what it takes."

"Now you are being overly dramatic" The doctor approached to his friend and grasped away the bottle out of his hand. "Isn't it too early for a drink?"

"If I lose Allerdale, I will be cursed by all my ancestors' ghosts for the rest of my mortal life and beyond." He drank the glass in his other hand in one gulp.

The doctor couldn't avoid a laugh, trying to dissimulate it to avoid insulting his friend. He remembered Mrs. Louise Sharpe, she had been a devoted mother, couldn't picture her in his mind as a vengeful ghost.

"If such a thing as ghost existed, your parents should have already attempt to make you see your faults. Maybe for once you would listen those around you, especially those that only desire your good"

"Don't start to lecture me like mother used to"

"Right, this is a serious situation indeed, I mean it Arthur when I say, the money my friend, should be the least of your worries." The doctor paused to examine the worried look in his friend face.

"Malvern Hill, Chase, Harrows and a now Allerdale, and a couple of small towns in between are also under quarantine order. Fifty people sick, plus at least ten reported deaths, mostly children and elders. Allerdale is the Southeast location so far. The whole county may go under medical alert, and nobody will be allowed to travel." The doctor made a pause, he was also stuck in Allerdale for now, but a full size lock down was something he preferred to avoid.

When he told Emma he was to depart, she asked why they not sent anyone else this time. She knew that Irving's job required him to travel periodically, but she feared for his health too. With the quarantine order they would be separated by far long, what if they get sick, she or one of the boys, what if he get sick. He said her if not Allerdale it would be some other place. He knew that his good wife respected his friendship with Arthur Sharpe, but she never quite liked it. She had expressed in more than one occasion her reserves toward the man, and Allerdale manor. But his Emma had a golden heart and she conceded, supporting him as always, _"...here, take this with you for the children and send my regards to Agnes. I pity her, my dear; quarantine or not she is practically a prisoner in her own house. Just take care of yourself, my love, and return safe to us"._ He longed for his family, but now he had was work to do. He tried to focus on the task on mind.

"The workers Arthur, Do you know where they settled before coming here?"

"No, Nort is the one to hire them, some come from the closer towns, but most of them are gypsies from the Northern lands, _that filthy lot_. They probably step at Malvern before coming here, I hear the oldest son is taking over the family business and his first command was to increase the wages payed to the land workers. Yes, most probably they were there, ungrateful ones. They never have been denied for a work in Allerdale but quick they are to sell themselves for an extra coin. Now they bring their sickness to my land, they know no gratitude... and now I have to feed them, while the production is shut down!? I'm losing money here, and they deserve not my concern."

"It may be true Arthur, but even if that is the case, you cannot thrown sick people away"

"I will if I could, throw their miserable asses out of my land to die somewhere else."

"Be not so fast on your judgement, will you think the same if it was one of your own house to fell sick".

"My whole family is in danger right now, because of them." Arthur stated as a matter of fact.

"A disease is nobody's fault, but it can drag innocents along with it. Our best efforts now should be toward stopping it and take care of our sick. That's what old Mr. Jacob would done"

"That's a low blow, my friend. Bringing my father like that. He will never raise even his voice against the workers, even less the gypsies. You...you remember the stories, right?

"Coleman Sharpe, founder of Allerdale, a tall-tale indeed. I remember to envy you as a child for being a descendant of such a mysterious man, the cunning and bold Coleman Sharpe, a self-made man able to bag anyone in his pocket. Mr. Jacob used to say he was half gypsy. A lost soul, stuck in the middle of two worlds, neither one to truly belong."

Arthur had thought a lot about the Sharpe's origins all his life, as a child he was proud of his ancestry and played to be the king of the gypsies. But he was still young when faced a great lost, his first love. Too young to fully understand, but not too young to regret the blood that ran through his veins. If there was gypsy blood in the Sharpe line, he didn't know, but he needed someone to blame, and for that purpose the gypsies fitted well. A curse most probably, for the history found a way to repeat itself in Allerdale.

/\/\/\/\

The master had been in the house most of the time, but they didn't saw him. From the nursery window, the children had seen people in and out, Doyle, Dr. Randolph, some maids dressed funny, why there where so many maids? They do look funny with a white fabric covering their mouths. Adelaide and Nana also, but they didn't came to see them, no one came to the nursery, only mother. The food was delivered to them using the service tray. Mother waked them up, walking Lucille from her room to the nursery; they spend the day there, and then back to each one's rooms. Their mother also used one of those funny things to cover her mouth. She spent two hours with them, usually after the meals. In that time Lucille was asked to read in silence and Thomas played quietly. They were also forced to take a nap after noon, that made both sleepless at night, but her mother insisted that they must be well rested to get strength. They knew something was off in Allerdale, and it was Lucille who asked first.

"Mother, is Adelaide not coming anymore, what about Nana?" Lucille face looked innocent but her reflexes were aware, expecting a reprimand from her mother after the question rolled off of her mouth. It didn't happen.

Her mother told them there were people sick and dying for a terrible illness. It was dangerous for children, and they have to be isolated for a time to avoid contagion. Lucille didn't what contagion was. It was for their own health mother had told, especially for Thomas, such a delicate boy. The mouthpiece, she had said avoid the germs to spread in the air. " _The germs made you sick when they get into your body"_. " _Of course you cannot see them, they are invisible"._

"The tutor won't come either?" She regretted that question right away. It only gained her a daily hour of homework copying the pages from a book in clean paper and ink, just to practice her penmanship.

Doctor Randolph had given some instructions for preventing the disease to spread in Allerdale, like boiling the water to consume, clean the bathrooms with boiling water, and wash the hands thoroughly before manipulating the food or using the facilities. The children would be best if not exposed to those persons that dealt with sick people on daily basis. Any symptom of sickness should be informed right away. Agnes made it sure to enforce the doctor's advice adding her own set of rules. The medical team for the workers was lodged in the shacks after the house, near Nana's place. A few maids remained in the house, mainly to manage the kitchen and restricted to the ground floor. The kids remained in the third floor, and she took care of them herself. The mistress took her own doses or isolation too, as she didn't step foot below the second floor since the quarantine started. The meals and the laundry were delivered using the service trays. Agnes also accommodated a room for her husband in the first floor. " _Better not to share the same room for a while, you're constantly being around these people, if you get sick, you'll bring the disease to me and thus to the children"._ For once he accepted her idea without objection.

The doctor sure tell her she was over reacting, and the mouthpieces she made the maids wear were unnecessary, as the Cholera didn't spread by coughing. But he preferred not to express his opinion. If one the children get sick he didn't want that blame on his shoulders. The Carlisle Hospital identified the symptoms as Cholera but it could be a new strand and so they cannot be sure it was not spread by the breath or the spit on it.

During the days, Lucille and Thomas made good use of their time together. The winter had been horrible because Lucille had been moved to her own room, outside the nursery. Thomas was given a room too, but he still sleep in the nursery, by lack of her mother's patience to deal with his cries, " _you fool boy will cry yourself sick"_. The quarantine allowed them to spend the days together again. They played, or read or lie next to each other just daydreaming, voicing their thoughts, chanting rhymes. They memorized rhymes and it became their secret code to say things to each other when they mother was present. Mostly they meant: I'm right here with you, _"Ding Dong Bell..."_ They were used to the confinement, and the solitude, but still they got bored from time to time. Most of the time there was only them and them alone. They made the nursery their shelter, their secret garden, their enchanted palace, their sailing ship, their uncharted land; play pretend games were what they were good at. They teamed up contriving ways to pass the time, Lucille the story teller, the silver tongued. Thomas the tinker, the magician, he found ways to make the stories real using what they had in hand. The drawing tools the doctor gave to them were particularly useful. Paper hats and tied sheets as ropes, they will catch the wildebeest in Africa; the book didn't have a picture of the beasts, but with that name they must be ferocious predators for sure, right? Thomas dreams were Lucille's, and his sister, she was a firefly, the only light that gleamed in in the darkest night.

/\/\/\/\

It was Adelaide that left them first. She didn't gave attention to her condition in the beginning, thinking that the food was making her stomach upset. Too much work to do around the house, in and out all day, there sure never was so many people in Allerdale. She missed the quietness of the manor, and the little children too. When the fever came, it was less than two weeks for her body to quit. Dehydration, after the constant throwing up and diarrhea, her body fainted and got weak to fight against the virus. She died in Nana's hands; the older woman took care of her until her last moment. For those two weeks she lied on Nana's bed and was cared as a child. For first time in 63 years Beth relinquished of her duties in Allerdale. When Adelaide's eyes lost their gleam, so did Nana's. Old Abbot was the one to deliver the bad tidings; he didn't dare to interrupt Nana's thoughts. She was paralyzed, just sat there like a statue looking at Adelaide's lifeless body. The master arrived and stood in the door watching the scene, and after a long time, he lifted Adelaide's body in his arms and closed her eyes. While he held her Nana stood up in a mechanical motion and changed the sweated sheets, impregnated in disease. She put clean sheets and bed covers. Then the two of them perform a silence ritual. Each one sat and the opposite side of the bed, and they cleaned Adelaide's body, and dressed her, and combed her hair, and hold her hands. Abbott looked as a mute spectator. He understood their pain, he was mourning too, for Adelaide was the closest he had to a daughter of his own, he and Nana had took charge of her since she was four. And Master Arthur, he remembered the little master as a toddler, always in Adelaide's arms.

Five days later, Abbott woke up in the morning to find the lifeless body of his wife. The last image he captured of her was just before going to bed. She didn't eat the soup he prepared for her. He noticed it but didn't comment, decided to allow her to cope with Adelaide's lost on her on accord. Nana was paler than usual, her long white hair untied. The nightgown added up to the image, making her to look ghostly under the candle light. She poured herself a tea before joining him in the bed, a tear rolling on her cheek, pooling in her wrinkles. She said nothing, she won't ever. Abbott found her body stiff next to him, she was dead, but she looked peaceful. He thought it was the grief that made her old heart stop. In front of the tombs of Coleman II and Ophelia Sharpe, seventy three years old Elizabeth Bale was buried in Allerdale family graveyard, next to Adelaide Bale's tomb. And next to those, an unnamed tomb, which held the bones of a stillborn baby.

The young Sharpe's were never allowed to see their caretakers. Their mother delivered the dreadful news, she told them Adelaide and Nana will not be with them anymore. Why? Thomas had asked. Words were said, but none of them had meaning in the child's head. Father had sent for Lucille later that day and her mother lead her to the inner yard. She waited there alone until he came. Lucille could smell his shaving cream scent, it had been a long time since she had last seen father. He was clean, wearing his best dark clothes, only the white collar of the shirt under the vest made a contrast, pairing with his milk white skin. He sat next to her and held her close. His eyes were vitreous while he spoke in a calm voice, explaining that there was a disease and quarantine, and how Adelaide had got sick, and then Nana. And she, Lucille had to be strong for her and Thomas too, and obey their mother while this quarantine last. He didn't want them to get sick too. She had cried against his father chest, and he kissed her tears away, as if this will take also the pain and the void she feel in her chest. "Be strong my brave little lady, you has so much in you, and for having you I'm proud. I'll always be." That night it was Lucille's turn to appease Thomas confused mind. Dead, Lucille had told him, Nana and Adelaide they were both dead.

"What it is dead?" the boy asked.

"Dead is... like sleeping forever" she really didn't come with anything better than repeat his father words.

"Like the sleeping beauty? Will Adelaide sleep for hundreds years?"

"No, not like that Thomas"

"I don't understand" He was puzzled.

"She won't wake up, she is not alive anymore. She was sick. We won't see her again"

"Does it hurt, to be dead?" Why they had not tell him first, _why they leaved without say goodbye._

"No, it feels like going to sleep, it doesn't hurt, they didn't feel anything"

"I don't want them to be dead. Why it happen Lucille, why?"

"They got sick, there is lot of people sick, father told me. That's why nobody has come, so we don't get sick too"

"But why?"

"I don't know Thomas, I wish they would be here with us" She was older and mature, but that didn't keep her from feeling somehow... abandoned.

"Wish too" The boy said, whipping his running nose.

They were dressed for the funeral in all black clothes. The master ordered to bury Nana and Adelaide in the family graveyard, only family and closest friend attended, the Sharpe's, Abbot, Jory, Doyle, Dr. Randolph and a priest for the town. Nana had asked the Master to wait a few days before turn Adelaide into the ground, so her body was keep in the manor basement, wrapped up in linen, in the clay pits, where the earth of the house foundation was cold unlike the temperature outside. Five days later, Arthur Sharpe understood Nana's request, she simple had not the strength to bury Adelaide. When the priest arrived at Allerdale for Adelaide's service he found that Nana would be buried too. The Master of Allerdale was familiar with the pain of losing a child of his own, he had cried them, and mourned them, but they all had been stillborn, he had never the opportunity to create bonds.

Nana instead, had lived almost all her life under the same roof with her own daughter. Adelaide died unaware of the truth, and Nana died leaving only one person in knowledge of the secret. It was useless now; there was no one to hear her truth. Nana had lied to her own daughter, to everyone life, first in order to have her back, then in order the keep her. The secrets that Nana held about the Sharpe were painful and horrible, not to be shared.

As a sister, Beth had raised Adelaide with love, and the Bales had also treated the child fair. Still, the word mother had not a fervent meaning in Adelaide's life, in that she had always understood the little Masters. Mother and daughter is a precious connection, better missing than broken. Beth was afraid the truth would overwhelm Adelaide and she might go away far from her, even more after the miscarriage. The secret was keep and both live their lives as sisters and best friends.

Selfish, Beth knew she had been selfish and coward. But she had become a young mother, and the delivery had been complicated, she had to be cut open in her belly. The improvised surgery let her unable to bear more children. So yes, she had been selfish; she won't lose her only child. The Master Jacob won't allow her to be pointed as a stained girl, pregnant and unmarried, for she was after all under the Sharpe's care. But someone had to respond for the girl's condition. Jacob Sharpe had concocted a plan to save the girls virtue. She had pleaded him to let her keep her child, she will, he had said, but on certain terms and conditions. The baby girl was taken away, and only two souls knew of this, the one who saved the child, and the one who ordered it away. For the rest of the world, the child had died premature, a boy. More than a culprit, a volunteer was found to respond for wronging the girl; he took the blame, the fatherhood on the unborn baby, and the girl in marriage. John owed Master Jacob his life, he was grateful with the man and he felt an honest appreciation toward him. He didn't vacillate to accept the proposal, because in truth he had interest in the young maid, she was beautiful and he at his 21 was full of desire. A gentleman the stable boy turned to be, in no time he fall in love with Beth. Four years later, they brought a girl to live with them in Allerdale, Beth littlest sister Adelaide, their mother was not in condition to raise another child, and the girl will be cared better by her older sister. This the Masters of Allerdale, Jacob and Louise Sharpe agreed. The Master had kept her word, and she did to, nobody will ever know that the girl was her own daughter. Despite the pain, she was grateful to the Master, she had promised him to remain in Allerdale, and she fulfilled. For having John Abbott as a husband, Beth knew she was blessed; he was more than she deserved. He respected her mourning, and in time when her heart healed, she learned to love him back, she loved him until her last breath.

For the two women, Allerdale had been her home and her entire life. Their inhabitants were, to some extent, their family. And now they were, all them standing up, suited in black. The children attended too, against the mother's advice. For the children there were no goodbyes, they were not allowed to see Adelaide nor Nana one last time. They had no option but to believe what they were told, that inside those boxes were the women's that had care for them since they had born. It didn't seem right, to put someone you love in a simple box, and buried it in the ground. What if the dirt gets inside the box? Staining their clothes in... red, red clay, as red as blood.

Lucille looked at the coffin were Nana was, and she thought maybe she was trapped inside, and Adelaide too. Can it possible that everyone was wrong and they were wrongly burying the old women alive? The thought made her shiver. It was the first time she was in a funeral, but it felt all so familiar. Not in the same way you can recall an event from your memory. It was more like if everyone was placed where they were supposed to be, as if this has happened once and again, and again. The priest spoke while Jory keep digging the hole in the ground. Mother stood next to father, the masters of Allerdale. Even Doyle with his pointy noise and his strange manner seemed right in the scene, a _déjà vu_. They gathered closer, while Jory and her father put the coffins into the holes using ropes. And then Jory cover the wholes with the earth he had removed, his eyes were full of tears but they were washed away by the rain. It sure was a good thing, to cry under the rain, so no one will notice. His father had cried, Lucille never had seen him cry. He did hug them tough, her and Thomas; he kissed each of them on their checks. She didn't cry this time, but she wanted too, so her father will kiss her tears away again, in the same way that Jory's tears were fading away mixed with the rain. There were no consolation words from her mother, only words, as always. She said it was the Lord's call and men should not oppose to that. Still she spoke with sourness in her tongue when she mention Nana's name, as if it was wrong. _"And the Lord would judge their souls and guide them to heaven or banish them to Hell. Be wise Lucille, you should not feel sorry for those who carve their own path."_

Mother's theory about dead was something unbelievable, Lucille thought about it for the rest of the day, and the night. The part in which the body was wasted away was true, but the existence of a soul that went to heaven or hell, depending on one's procedures as a living being was definitely a made up story to keep children scared and obedient. Punishment she had said, for one's improper actions in life - improper, not bad - Lucille had been observant to her mother's choice of words. " _What kind of punishment?"_ she had asked her mother. As a response she was, ironically, punished. Could that meant she was dead too? Surely her mother considered her question 'improper'. But then, it didn't make sense that she will be punished again for the same infraction after dead. How can a person be punished without a sentient body to take the slaps and beats? See, her mother's theory was senseless, a lie.

Lucille had seen a priest once, long ago when Thomas has been sick as a baby. She had listened to the man who had pray besides the little baby. Nana and Adelaide had prayed too. But now the prayers were for them, words were read, about the Lord's kingdom of heaven, and restful peace or it was peaceful rest? _"….and we will remember them forever in our hearts... may they watch for us from heaven."_ Nana had spoken to her about heaven once, about the chance of Thomas going there. Now she knew, this is how adults speak to children about dead, without really mention the word explicitly. For mother _"There is a heaven and there is a hell, as there is good and bad. But for all there must be a balance, and god's wisdom goes beyond our petty ignorance. Men and women instead, they are prone to sin so they cannot be trusted with hard decisions. That's why we are in god's hands. He will claim back his faithful followers, truly believers, men and woman of good heart, and children, babies and little children that obey they parents, they are still innocent in the eyes of the Lord. They will be claimed to rest and join him in his kingdom."_ Nana's explanation where not verbose as mother's, her descriptions were simpler but gorgeous. Heaven for instance, was a better place, bright and clean, with smells of fresh baked sweet tart, and the most beautiful musical notes being played. And there were angels too and cherubs which are baby angels and it was neither pain nor sadness, just rejoice and peace. Curiously, her mother never went into details about how heaven supposed to be. She was more obsessed with sins, for her almost everything was a sin, and sins will sent you straight to hell, and her depiction of the constant suffering that was delivered there, will make you never want to step again a foot outside the nursery. After years of trying to figure things out by herself, reading what she found at hand, trying to ask the right - and proper - questions in a subtle way. She had now come into a conclusion; adults do not spoke the truth, not to themselves, not to each other, and definitely not to children.

Dead bodies don't feel, instead them dry and got rotten or fall apart. That's very different of being asleep, if dead you cannot dream nor feel nor wake up. While in your sleep, you can dream or have nightmares. Lucille herself had also experienced that state of half consciousness in which you are asleep, and aware of it, while still feeling thing in her surroundings. She could not image dead being like that.

She looked at Thomas, realizing how much had he grown from the tiny baby he was. It made her remember Adelaide's words. _"A cycle, that is what life is dear child, it will end at the same place that it started"._ That was a better theory than her mother's biased point of view. In Adelaide words, it actually looked like a release. _"For everyone had a purpose on life Lucille, the difficult is to find it. But after you have met your purpose the charge on your shoulders will be released. Most of us will realize this when we are old, and when our bodies become so old and we cannot take care of ourselves anymore, dead will come to us, and we will expect it without fear"_. Lucille never has heard such words of wisdom coming from her caretaker. As sure as the rain was falling over Allerdale while they buried Nana and Adelaide's bodies, Lucille realized that she had a purpose too, Thomas. That made her understand, and then she thought that Nana had a purpose too, Adelaide. And Adelaide had taught her a lot, including how to take care of Thomas, and now she can do many things by herself. Adelaide had cared for her as once she had cared for her father, so probably she had achieve her purpose too.

Standing there, the rain pouring over him, poor Abbott looked tired and lost and sad, he will stay on Allerdale till his moment came, he always said he had promised Master Jacob to look for the estate and for the Master Arthur, and that was his own desire. He will be buried in Allerdale next to Nana, eventually. Lucille hoped for him to meet his purpose, maybe then he can rest too. Lucille though it must be difficult for him to continue his life without Nana. Without Thomas, life will become a burden for her... and dead will only be the final sacrifice, to achieve absolute freedom.


	9. Leverage

In the year that followed the Cholera outbreak, life in Allerdale slowly regained its usual pace. A beast waking up from hibernation. After the loss of their caretakers, one thing become crystal clear for the young Sharpes, they were by their own, really by their own. The maids come and went, they did their jobs, served the meals, cleaned the rooms, speak with the children when necessary, only the necessary. " _The mistress asks for the young miss to come to the Hall". "Please Master Thomas, it is time for your bathroom"," Mr. Sutton sent me to fetch the masters for their lesson"._ None of the maids, not the older, not the young ones, none of them bother to socialize with the children beyond the Mistress instructions. They didn't care about them; they care for being paid, and be out of that horrible place as soon as possible. The tutors on the contrary incremented, for now the children had three, in different times during the year, to made 30 out of 52 weeks boring, annoying or miserable, depending if they will have the spring, summer or fall classes. The art teacher, Mr. Earl, was a narcissist young man with interest in the human anatomy and any artistic form that represented its nudity. Lucille tended to be more positive toward his lessons, which included painting and pottery, only for the fact that the man was not a pain like Mr. Sutton. He never yelled, not paid her much attention in general. But these crafty activities were dull for her. Thomas would have enjoyed them for sure, but he was excluded. _"These are not activities a man should cultivate"_ , father had said, - _"but the teacher is a man"_ , Lucille had commented, _"Well he certainly is not my son"_ the father had replied. Mr. Earl also taught her music, in which she excelled, an innate talent, the tutor had said, undoubtedly inherited from her mother. The comparison wasn't welcome for neither the mother nor the daughter, but none of them expressed it. Still, Lucille appreciated that the teacher showed her how to read the notes and play them, no more memorizing like mother used to teach her. Her only regret during this lessons was that meanwhile, Thomas was doing writing with Mr. Sutton, and then she only could think about the stick striking against her brothers knuckles again and again.

Another subject included in their education was social studies, which included geography, history and politics of England. Regarding Thomas, the teacher had said that these topics were important to be known by him as a future land owner and business man. England first, then the rest of the countries, _"you must know the countries and their rules, to understand the economy and make wise decisions in commerce, but for now we will start with the basis..."_ What is commerce, the boy had asked. Mr. Branigan was a teacher cut from the same fabric than Mr. Sutton was, another stick devoted, with the additional ability of speak for long periods of time without a pause. He also pretended that the children memorized every detail, and delivered punished upon wrong answers. Poor Thomas sometimes bobbed his head trying to keep awake during the lectures, and then Lucille had to divert the teacher's attention when a unexpected question was thrown to the puzzled boy. It was decided that Lucille will be taught social studies along with Thomas, but only during the first summer, for women needed to have general culture, in order to not shame their family name and their husband's name, as told in her mother's words. After that she would be spared in favor of more women like topics, like manners in society.

While Mr. Earl arrived with the spring, and Mr. Branigan replaced him on summer, fall lessons were the worst part of the year. Then it was only Mr. Sutton. Except for the winter, he remained in Allerdale for the rest of the year. The man had become a constant unwanted presence in the children lives. He had grew empowered over the years, imparting unfair punishment. And as soon as Thomas started formal instruction under his care, he took the courtesy of including the boy as a target for the stick. During Fall lessons, he focused in Literature mainly. While Thomas hand writing was firm and legible, the reading was a different issue. It was not easy for him to remember how each combination of letters should sound in new or unfamiliar words. He sat in front of Lucille, in the other side of the desk. The desk was wide, so he could not reach her if he stretched his arms. In more than one occasion had he tried to catch her attention desperately, making gestures with his face. Thus, his ears had being pulled until red more than once, and he ended standing up in a corner for the rest of the lesson, holding a considerable pile of books over his head. _"Maybe boy if you are not fond to listen to the reading, the knowledge will enter into your head in a different way, let's try..."_ Thomas could swear that they were more books than people in England or maybe in the world. The books he and Lucille have in the nursery were fun to read, stories and rhymes. Those he could read without complain because the tales were interesting, the adventures of King Arthur and his knights, Sir Lancelot, and Merlin the sorcerer. Mr. Sutton instead had a knack to force on them the most boring topics. Thick tomes with aplenty elaborate words, most difficult for them to pronounce or remember. Nobody spoked like that anyway.

There were times in which Thomas was taken out from the nursery or excused for the lesson. These were the moments he shared with his mother. He usually knew when they came, he felt expectant, but not in a good way. He felt like being observed by shadows, that was his cue. Some things his mother said to him, he didn't tell to Lucille. His first lie had been taught by his own mother. He had been in the hall, the maid had left him there waiting. He had been there in few official occasions, without counting the sibling's night escapades. Never had he lingered there enough time, he knew Lucille liked it, but he thought the place was creepy. Nevertheless, Lucille always seemed to be comfortable in any place of the house. She was not afraid of the dark, and the prospect of a punishment didn't deterred her from doing things. Secret things, mainly. There were good things too, like their collection of treasures, kept under the bed in the wooden planks of the bed frame, or the passages they had discovered, Lucille mostly, to wander out of the nursery. There was also the attic, but Lucille was not fond of it, and always discarded the place when Thomas proposed it as a exploring destination. The attic was old, piled with old things. It was where the ghosts lived. Lucille had said ghost didn't exist, that it was the living to be afraid of. Thomas knew different, he had listened, he had watched, he had peed on himself becoming the object of his mother reprimand once more.

His mother found him there, looking at the piano, standing in his own yellowish puddle, his pale white skin trembling.

"What Is This Thomas!?" she demanded. The tone was stern and matched the anger in her factions. "Are you not big enough for this behavior? Look what you did, you dumb boy!"

She went to grab him, but stopped in the middle of the motion, and then Thomas noticed she was looking at the piano too. The shadow was small, but not defined, it moved like the coal dust shaken from the chimney by the East wind. A note sang in the piano, and the ghostly shadow vanished the moment the maid entered in the room.

"Clean this mess girl, immediately!" the mistress barked at the new girl, while pulling Thomas to follow her.

Thomas was bathed with icy cold water, and dressed with a only a shirt, one of his father shirts. He trembled while sit one corner of his mother's bed.

"Does it want to hurt me... the shadow?"

"Nonsense, you saw nothing, and you would talk no more of this"

"But you saw it too, don't you?"

"I saw a stupid boy peed on his pants. Really Thomas, I'm beginning to think that you do this on purpose"

"But moth-"

"Silence!" she told him. "And do not move, dare you to repeat your last feat over my bed, and I swear you will sleep in the stables with the beasts!" with that she left the room.

After what felt like a lot of time, she returned carrying a tray of tea.

"Drink" she handed a cup to the boy. It was bitter and sweet at the same time. Too much sugar to conceal the bad taste. He drank it anyway to not upset his mother more.

"You look tired, maybe you should rest a while, forget this, only those wrong at heart are tormented by visions in their lives. You know what they show you boy?" He shook his head no. "Your faults, they chase you, a prelude of the torment what you will endure after you're dead. Or maybe is this place, it craves for young souls you know, wants to claim them, only the weak are taken."

Now he was really scared, and mother she spoked like a stranger. He was terrified of her.

"Will you be my good baby boy Thomas? yes, drink your tea." Now this was unusual but not new, his mother turned into a different person from time to time, one he barely recognized.

"When I was small, my mother had me, but more than anything she wanted a baby boy like you. My father wanted a boy too. They tried and tried, only gaining more girls. Six you know, those girls wasted her up, the last one actually killed her. You see, she was in a wrong position inside her womb. Mother left me with a bunch of baby asses to wipe, and I did it, I care for all of them, such a party of ungrateful girls. Each of them left, married and make her own life, forgot about me. They didn't care I remained there, enslaved, cast away from society, taking care of the old man. Men you know, most of them are bad, like your father, mine was no better. Still, I loved him, with all my heart. Comply with his every whim. But he always wanted a boy. At last I had you, but you were not meant to be."

Thomas was silent, in these occasions she was usually gentle, but her mood may sometimes change drastically.

"Are you bad too, Thomas?" He denied with his head. "Liar" she said. "Good boys don't see shadows wandering around the house. Tell me, are you lying to me?"

He denied.

"Then you are a bad boy, is that what you want to be?"

He denied again.

"Speak up boy"

"No... mother"

"Do you love me Thomas, do you love your mother?" He was afraid and couldn't articulate, tried to nod. She slapped him, "Oh no, you love your sister better, right? But she will leave, like my sisters did, marry a fancy man and move far from Allerdale, to London maybe. Will you love me then when she is not here anymore? I'll be here for you my dear, but I won't be always. What will you do then, you poor, poor thing, who will take care of you?"

"Mo..ther..?"

"That's right Thomas. Now, did you see anything out of place in the hall today, did anything bother you there?"

"No... I.. didn't"

"That's my good boy."

He didn't dare to cry, but the tears rolled out of his eyes, nothing he could do to avoid it. He felt sleepy and didn't notice when he felt asleep.

He thought it was a nightmare, when he did wake up in his room the next day. Still, he wouldn't try his luck. When Lucille met him later on the day, she noticed he was particularly quiet, _"What happened Thomas, did mother punish you yesterday? I had to eat in the kitchens and mother locked in my room early"_ He had denied with head, shrugging his shoulders _"Thomas look at me, is something the matter, what bothers you, are you hurt?"_ He looked at her trying to give way nothing with his eyes, _"No"_ he said, _"Is nothing"_ , and the lie burned his throat and he didn't feel like a good boy.

/\/\/\/\

After the window incident by end of July, the children action range was limited severely. Jory has seen Thomas trying to climb out from his window and he ran into the house alarmed for the little master might fell from the roof. Thomas was really climbing back to his room, very early in the morning, but that was beyond the point. Jory's good intentions and his concern for the boy health were not unattended. His mother caught Thomas red handed. Metal bars were installed in the nursery and the children rooms' windows, for their own security. The boy had been punished, and Lucille too, for in mother's reasoning she was the master mind behind the boy's actions. Nights became long and pointless, so they both sleep, in their own rooms. Mister Sharpe approved his wife decisions, without much interest in the topic. Children are children, and always get themselves into trouble, he thought. He didn't realize that the children were locked most of the time, not that he visited the nursery or the children rooms ever. As the master of the house, he saw the children in the usual family settings, meals, sometimes the inner garden, the hall, the library. He thought they were both mainly quiet and obedient, never running around, or stomping in the stairs like he used when he was young. Maybe they spend too much time indoors, their pale skin could tell, but summer was too hot and Thomas fainted easily, his wife had told. Anyway the incident does not escalate in any harm, and there were more urgent matters that required his attention. He will have to travel before the mining season finished.

His uncle Edmund health had been emaciated during the last year, and Arthur finally will see results from working under the old man's governance. While he was Master in Allerdale, the one who decided and commanded others, his station worth nothing in his uncle's eyes. He always has criticized his mother for being so light handed with the boy. _"Really Louise, the boy will believe himself from royalty." -" Oh! Edmund, stop it wouldn't you pampered him yourself if he were your only child"._ The comment always hit him back, cause Edmund never had married nor had any children, at least not recognized. He loved his nephew of course, wasn't he one of the responsible of the exaggerated amount of presents the boy received every Christmas? But he valued hard work beyond anything, and the boy was so used to have all given to him that took many things for granted. When Louise died, he convinced Jacob to take Arthur under his care for a season. That extended into a year.

The young man was careless, like his father he had bad eye for business. That, and his fondness toward unproductive pleasures like bets, women, and drink was a dangerous combination that only lead wealth men to bankrupt. Arthur Sharpe will only obliterate the Sharpe name and its remaining fortune. Beyond counsel the man listen to no one and in occasions was disrespectful toward Edmund or anyone with authority. Also, there was resentment, deep rooted in his nephew's soul; it boiled waiting to be released anytime. He tried to tamed as best as he could, put him to work, carrying the finances, managing the farms operations. Maybe he can learn and be wise enough to provide for himself and his family when the time comes. But something unexpectedly happened that appeased Arthur defiance. A girl, a seven years old orphan that Edmund decided to take in his house. He had not sons of his own, and he used to say there were already too much Sharpes in this world. He may not have the name, but he and his sister Louise were Sharpes nonetheless, cousins of Jacob Sharpe in a degree, descendants of Lilian Hertford, formerly Sharpe, sister of Arthur Sharpe, the first.

The girl had come to Edmund in strange circumstances, a new born baby in a basket carried by a nun, a note from his sisters inside the basket. Edmund was temporary residing in London at that time, he was a business man, no time for wife or children of his own, and of course he was not fond of taking another's child under his care. When the woman left the house, she carried the basket with herself, took the baby to the Foundling Hospital of London, with a second letter, this from Edmund Hertford himself, offering a generous amount to be donated periodically, if they take good care of the baby and keep his contribution anonymous. The name was not in any of the letters, but a blanket. The baby was wrapped on it. The uneven stitched were handcrafted in a corner of the fabric, Camile. Edmund feel sorry to reject the baby, but he was not the man for the task. He did the best he could and ensure the child's care, he wrote periodically to get notice of the child's development, only to get disappointing responses. As a baby, the child had danced into several country houses, it was a difficult task to find a wet nurse willing to the full day commitment that a child in her condition required. And as she grew older it became evident that she could not learn. The institution wrote Edmund Hertford inquiring about his plans for the girl's future, as they offered orphaned children with primary care an education in order to teach them an office so they could be placed into an apprentice work when they reached the age of fourteen, the girls usually became maids at sixteen, or governess if they were smart and lucky enough. Eight years passed, and solitude had taken his toll on Edmund's spirit, he had changed his mind. Who was the baby girl, the letter didn't said, neither his sister, but she sister wanted the baby to be as far of Allerdale as possible. Was it for her heritage or her birth condition he didn't know. For the parents' identity, the only response he got was _"She may be a Sharpe, but a bastard nonetheless. I don't want her close to my Arthur"_ interesting, Arthur and Camile turned to get along just fine. More than fine indeed, a connection broken and lost he may tell. For he suspected the girl was one of Jacob's deeds, not the first one that he suspected. Louise had a golden heart to forgive his husband's 'slips', but she was wise enough to forbid them to grow under her same roof.

After eight years he barely recognized the girl, if not by her singularity. She was not exhausted nor excited about the travel from London to France. Camile needed special attention, and he was already hired a full time caretaker. Was she developed right physically except for her peculiar face expression and her inability to communicate with the world. She was isolated in her own mind, like unaware of the people around her. Only under some occasions she interacted with the rest, brief moments of awareness, none words though. She had the mind of a baby the doctors had said, a born condition, irremediable, lifelong. But beyond what anyone had though, Arthur became seriously interested in the girl, devoting his time to her after his daily work. That seemed to lighten the burden of his troubled mind. A year later, Edmund could swear the young man had cried, when he said goodbye to return to London, on the notice of his father health condition deteriorated. He place head in place and occupied of Allerdale business, found a wife and married before the Jacob had died. Still he made a routine two travel at least twice a year and spend one two four months in Lyon. During that time, he frequently visited Camile, and even convinced to move her to the cottage he bought close to the farms, the countryside air he had said will do marvels in the girls' health. And it had been true, the girl crisis had receded the caretaker had said, her expression lighted up when she was taken to see the horses, they had made a daily ritual to take her to the stables and she will move her hands along the animal's back endless. She allowed herself to be handled by different people, when it was only barely her caretaker in the beginning. He has thought, he can confide in Arthur to succeed him, but the years had not been kind to him. Arthur had slowly turned back, growing wary, arrogant, elusive, and secretive. After his first child's lost Arthur had travel to France and drank himself until unconsciousness. Then again, and again, and again. He went neglecting his work, and Edmund was getting to old to deal with him, he had a handful already with his health, the farms, and Camile. He wrote Finlay to come back. This only bring quarrel with Arthur, which only saw Finlay as an intruder. In the last two years, he tried to kept distance from Arthur, discouraging him about the farms' activity and the income they were generating. _"There is few I can afford in this situation dear nephew, we have to tight our pants as well, I had to sell 'Les Peregrines' and with less to handle it is enough for me to take care. Please do not waste yourself in traveling and use the time wiser to run Allerdale, with luck you'll get better profit from England soil. I'll hope for the season change to bring better winds for us"._ It was a lie, except that he did sell 'Les Peregrines' farms, if not a true sell, he had legally passed them to Finlay's oldest and only live son.

So, the business in France was as bad as in England, this Agnes new from prying into letters addressed to her husband. She knew more than she claimed to know, she had found the key on the floor. The one that was he always carried under his shirt, hanged around his neck in a cord. She had felt that bloody key thousand times. When they were face to face, him over her, the little key dangling against her collarbone like a drumstick. A memento he had said, from his grandfather, _"I don't even know if it open any door for real"_. But it was too small to fit a door lock. Something smaller maybe, a chest, a drawer, sure he was holding the information from her. She had tried every place she found in the house. He had been searching for the key like a maniac when he realized it was lost, and then she knew it opens something for sure, something Arthur guarded zealous. Abbot and Jory had spent two days searching on the nearby grounds. She had convinced Arthur he may have dropped it outside. Her search was unfruitful, there was no place it will fit, and the only revelation was the secret compartment she found in her husband desk, all the way behind the drawer. They were letters, a stack of them tied with a string. The content she couldn't decipher, they were in another language, Swedish maybe, maybe more than one language. One thing she could recognize was the name of Edmund Hertford in one of the envelopes that was separated from the rest, thrown in the bottom of the box, it was in plain English. She read it twice not quite understanding its content, only a reference of a woman or it was a child? A child she though, by the way Sir Edmund referred to her. She didn't know Arthur's uncle was in charge of raising an adoptive daughter, who were the parents? Men were all the same ... _"it is a concern to me the health of dear Camile, and I'm vowed to respect my sister's last wishes in that regard. As I promised I have taken care of her as my own child, and through the years I have developed a truly fondness for the sweet girl she is, even if she doesn't has the words to express herself, she has a bright mind. She has always been tranquil of character, but now her nerves are quivering, and we are afraid she hurt herself in her anguish crisis. Finlay is as concerned as I am, we are both abated by this news, but we need to focus on the child's health. Be sure, as sure as she is the depositary of my fortune and not you, and that she will be under care of Finlay when I pass away. He as a gentleman has denied to take the control of my properties and asked me to put them in benefit of his son Joffrey. The only favor I can grant him is allow him to return to Allerdale one day, until the rest of his days. Such a noble man he is, after so much he had been denied there. Don't think I'm a fool nephew, for I was schooled as you, and can do math as well, but for now I'm giving you the benefit of doubt, and will listen the explanations you may feel in need to tell. Even so, I'm telling you this, I have no interest in that patch of land, nor the house that stands there as a cruel remainder of the past. But I won't die before see that's it has not grasped it clutches on more innocent souls. And if my fears are true, and has you acted wrong as your father before you did, then I'll make sure that the true heir of Allerdale return to take his place, with all my support and money. Fear not for your descendant and wife, for they'll be cared, but I will not stand between justice and you."_ In which way had Arthur wronged his uncle that made the man write these hard words for him, and who was this rightful heir of Allerdale? Secrets, she knew the answers she needed will be found with the lock opened by the key she held in her hand.

/\/\/\/\

The winter after Lucille's eleventh birthday turned to be one of the hardest Allerdale had seen. The snow covered the roads isolating Allerdale from the town. The maids went with their families, and only Jory and Abbott remained, but they were rarely being seen inside the house, only to deliver news to the Mistress. It also happened that her mother declared Lucille's was old enough to help with the house chores. And so, part of her free time was stolen by other activities like mopping the floors, washing the kitchen or the bathrooms, mending clothes, laundry or helping cooking. The tasks were easy to handle, but repetitive and tiresome. She delivered breakfast and super to Thomas in his room, and cleaned the dishes after. The meals were simple and Lucille hated the house work.

She had burned her hands again, and that only gained her a scorn. The blister bothered her painfully with every touch of the dirty potato she was trying to peel. The mother had said she had to learn, she cannot expect a life of servants, she will grow and marry and who will marry her if she didn't knew the basics of running a house. Agnes frequently diminished the girls' virtues and mocked her on the possibility of live a spinster, remaining alone in Allerdale, "... _you'll tend to your brother's ghost, for he won't be lucky enough to grow and marry and have children of his own. The great Sharpe legacy, it will die with the two of you"._ One good thing was that she was given a set of keys, five in total, altogether hanging in a metal ring, this she tied to her apron with a cord. One key was for the nursery, Thomas was moved there every morning, the other of course, Thomas room, there was one for the storage room next to the kitchen, and a fourth one for the elevator.

Some of the chores were not indispensable, and it only purpose was to keep the girl occupied, dusting out the trophy room, for example. If the intention was to make Lucille fear or die in boredom, the mother had failed. That was by far Lucille's favorite, but she always remembered to put a face of desolation when her mother ordered the task. If she suspected that Lucille actually enjoyed it, she will find another thing for the child to do instead. The room was creepy for sure, with all those animal's carcasses standing there like frozen in time, dead pretending to be alive - the bodies conserved, not rotten- trapped immobile forever. Lucille could sympathize with that feeling. The collection of moths displayed in crystal cases was something worth seeing, there were so many, from tiny ones to full hand size, colorful ones and those that mimicked the rotten wood on the door frames. Lucille could see hidden faces in the dark patterns of their wings. It fascinated her, the moths, all the same and yet so different. She had rummaged in the drawers of the big desk, finding strange utensils, apparently using to manipulate the insects, and prepare them for display. Also, she found a sort of diary, every specimen named and tagged with a number. Draws and notes about the type of moth and where it had been caught. She wanted to take the book to her room, but it was too big and heavy, she couldn't change its place and expect her mother won't notice. So she read a bit every day and marked the page before her mother yelled for her, asking why had she had spent too much time dusting some old animals. For Thomas she sneaked small books from the shelves, most were about animals. While Thomas was now a very fluent reader, he preferred listening tell-tales to reading anytime. She also sneaked out some of the tools she'd found, hiding them in her apron. The boy was frequently trying to fit things together.

He had engaged himself lately in assembling a diorama, he had asked for books with draws of animals on them. Finally he was ready to show Lucille how he had copied the drawings and glued them to blocks using wax from the candles, others he hanged from the box roof using a thread.

"Look Lucille, I made it for you." The eager boy said when Lucille entered in the nursery one afternoon.

"What is it Thomas?"

"A jungle with all the animals, see the snake and the tiger. We can pretend to go there, and I will be a Rajah, and you, you will be the queen... no, a goddess, and will make everyone to bow their head when they stand in your presence."

The full toothed smile with dimples on his cheeks was one of a kind, and Lucille didn't have the heart to tell Thomas that the penguins didn't live in the jungle neither can fly. He was proud of his making, enjoying the smile he brought to his sisters face, pushing the little penguin picture so it moved, pretending it was flying and not just hanging there.

The merriment didn't last, and that evening Lucille had to put the pieces together as best as she could in the same way that she had to sooth her brother cries and collect the broken pieces of his self-confidence together. The trigger had been a intent of her to add an elephant, she had got the carved piece or ivory from under the bed, a layer of dust covering it. He had denied, saying that it was his own making and the trinket didn't belonged there. Not because elephants were not in the jungle, for of course there were elephants in India. He has asked where she got the piece, and she had told him it was boy one that had been in the house years ago. _" 'This for you little girl, 'this a present"_ , bright green eyes over in between a freckled nose and a tuft of orange hair, the boy was but three at most. She didn't remember his name, nor with whom he had arrived, but she was sure it was on Thomas first birthday, the only occasion in which children other than Lucille and Thomas had stepped a foot in Allerdale.

"No, I don't want it, Lucille". Thomas remained in deep thinking. Why had been another boy, had she liked him more? Jealousy nagged deep in the boy's stomach, crawling up his throat.

"But Thomas I'll give it to you"

Being mad was an unusual feeling for him, one difficult to contain, and it flew out of him as free as the regret that followed.

"You want him better than me," he accused. "Then go find him, leave me alone, I will die and you won't miss me a bit. I am not good, I wish I never had born!" With these last words, the craft flew to hit against the wall, the pieces scattering in every direction.

For the girl it was the first time she faced with a tantrum, she didn't knew what to do. The words they boy spoke were horrible and hurting, she wanted to get mad too, to respond and argue and throw something, and yell and get in her room until he apologized. But this was her Thomas and never had been like this before, he was always nice and gentle, and frail and maybe a little too scared. He would cry silent tears without telling what bothered him, and ask her permission before even blink or touch anything new. He was a good boy, the good one she knew, unlike her the defiant, the sneaky, the liar. It was not Thomas speaking, it couldn't be. He was acting as he had seen.

So... mother. The winter was about to end and it had been only them and mother, none had visit, and father was amiss. She knew her mother frustration because of that. Lucille replayed in her mind the same words Thomas had just spoke, and now they make sense it her mothers' voice, swapping up like poison from a snake's teeth, banging into the scared boy's ears. She could not act as a child, and for once she agreed with her mother, she needed to grow up. Thomas needed a mother's love, not a sister's and for him she will do anything.

They boy trembled sitting on the floor hugging his legs to his body, the face buried over his knees. Sobbing. He felt overwhelmed. He was not mad with Lucille, not really, he was just afraid to be left aside. His sister will grow and married and leave. And he will be alone if he not die first, as his mother had told. She had, because on the boy the mother could only see a copy of his father, one than she can overpower and won't manhandle her back. But Thomas, he was just a small child, and as one he looked up to the adults to seek reassurance and protection, he found none. A had passed on his shoulder and other lifted his head up, his tears were cleaned with his sister's hand.

"Are you mad because I think I won't love you? Silly boy, I would never stop to loving you, never ever. I don't remember the boy who gave me that figure, I took it only because it was pretty and I save it for you when you were older."

"But you never show it to me before, you keep it secret."

"Not secret, forgotten. It was long time ago, you were a bay. I remember now when I saw your present, and I wanted to give something to you too".

He tried to digest what she had said to him in sweet soothing voice, he felt bad and regretted acting like he did, he was a fool and a baby. Lucille was not mad with him, and she never had lied to him.

"I'm sorry" he said now more calm. "I don't want to die. I don't want to be without you ever."

"And so I want, come here" She cradled the boy on her arms.

They stood up and she took him to the bathroom and ran the water, making sure it was warm enough. He remained sat in the chair on the corner, watching Lucille arrange everything as Adelaide used to. Then she guided Thomas towards the tub, undressed him as a mother would his child, and bathed him. He only watched her in silence, the warm water felt nice on his back, dripping from his hair. She washed him with the sponge and combed his hair untangling the knots. It had grown at least four inches below his ears, and it felt over his face bothering him, but it was Adelaide who used to cut it. Lucille stood leaving him a couple of minutes and returned with scissors. She combed his hair and cut it as straight and she could, making it just a thumb long. She motioned him to stand up and he did, allowing himself to be wrapped up in a towel before getting out of the tube. She cared of him so tender and after he was safe under the covers in a clean pajama, she sang him a lullaby, in a soft humming voice that made him fall asleep. Lucille stood up and left him on the bed, she had too many things to do, and she had already a new plan in mind.

That night Thomas dreamed. He was standing alone in a hall, feeling watched, the lights went off and gradually the darkness approached to engulf him, he ran to the opposite direction, a light at the end, but he was not fast enough and was surrounded by nothingness a few steps before reaching the door at the end of the corridor, and in the dark there was pure fear and horrors, claws and hiss and screams nailing his ears, he still ran until he missed the step and felt, his face hitting hard on the ground, they will crawl over him, he roll his body in fetal position but something seize his legs pulling him hard, _'Lucille, please help me'_ he screamed, but no sound came from his mouth, none, as hard as he tried, his hands scanning the floor, searching for something he could hold onto. His leg got free as he was pulled quickly, something holding him by the wrist, in blink of eyes he was blind again but now light, he had landed in the nursery, Lucille had pulled him save, and the light was a flicker around her as if she was a candlestick. In the dim light he can see around only part of the room, the rest remained in penumbra. He cannot see the walls, the piece of the room he could half illuminated by the light irradiated by Lucille, was like floating in an intense darkness, there was no rest of the house, he looked around and throw his shoe hard, but it didn't made any sound, shouldn't be if it hitter the wall? It just disappeared into the black nothingness. He turned around to see Lucille, she didn't spoke but move close to him and the light moved with her, making part of the room disappear, while other appeared, there was no wall indeed and they stood in the hall and we're now in his room, only that there were no doors or walls, Lucille? She looked like an in a picture on a book, her dark hair and her skin, almost transparent, he almost could see thought, Lucille? She turned into vapor and it swirled around him, and he was not afraid anymore, and he wished to feel like that forever, and his own body started to vanish until he feel no more, and see no more, nor listen not hear, only a scent remained like the salts that Lucille had put in his bath today, sandalwood, he tried to think but he suddenly woke up. The dream had been awkward but not a nightmare, he rolled to his side for his sister but he was alone in the bed, he noticing that he was in his room, but he had felt asleep in the nursery.

He ran to the door, it was locked. He dressed and waited. And waited. He waited for a knock at the door. Lucille, he knew, she always knocked twice, it was their cue. She had come with the idea to set a way for her to let him know when someone was going upstairs. He came with the solution of tying a bell at the line of the service tray. Lucille may pull the cord from any floor, and the bell will sound, she can signal him that mother was coming up and she'll never know. But the doorknob was turning without any knock, he noticed because he had been staring at the door for the last fifteen minutes. So it only could be... mother.

It wasn't. He released the air he had been holding in his lungs and ran to meet her, hugging her in the waist. "You didn't k-" Shh, she hushed him "come", he told in a whisper, taking his arm, guiding him to the nursery, silently, small steps, like robbers do. Thomas thought that if they can tie stuffed animals to their feet, they could walk without making any sound. He laughed quietly of his own absurd idea. In the nursery they will open the hidden door; she had found the key while cleaning one of the guest rooms. But the door was open when Thomas pushed it. She blinded him with a handkerchief over his eyes. For the first time she guided him to the attic, through the spiral stairs. He was not afraid, holding safely to his sister's hand. Once up she take out the fold. Thomas was marveled, he couldn't believe what he saw.

"Lucille?" He looked at her in awe.

"This is for you Thomas. This will be our secret, only for you. Your special place" She smiled and he jumped over her, his eyes shining in happiness.

She had not much to give him, they had nothing after all, but she could figure out a way to made their lives better, she always found a way. Thomas pulled her over the place, holding her hand. He wanted to enjoy all of it with her. She had cleaned up the attic, moving the boxes and thing to the sides, opening the space it was bigger than she first imagined, because the things were piled up close to the stairs, blocking the view behind. She found tables and brought up some stools from the furniture stored in the old maids quarters. She had bring the painting tools and paper and all the tools they had been collected, scissors and rules and ink and carving tools and wooden pieces, a lot of them from old broken chairs, and all the things from under the bed. She had bring the wooden blocks and arranged the letters to for a word, two actually, 'Thomas' workshop'. In the table there was the fixed diorama, as well as she could fix it. It must suffice. It did, for Thomas it was more than good enough, much more. His first creation was a wooden elephant, the carving was uncouth but the trunk distinguished it. He gave it to her, and she added it to the diorama. "It's perfect" he said. "Thank you Lucille, I love it, this, everything! I love you", - "and I love you Thomas, I love you dearly". He painted moths and hanged them from the ceiling planks, to add to the living ones that were already fluttering over the place. He didn't mind them, because Lucille liked them. So if he would spent time here by himself they will remember him of her.


	10. Broken Wings

Spring arrived to Allerdale with the absence of the children's father. Mr. Nort arrived as usual, with instructions. Doyle delivered through him a letter from master Arthur, he will take more time, the uncle had passed away.

The incoming rains dampened the house leaking through the roof and making the wood wet. Mold grew like the grass in the green lands, filling the enclosed and dark spaces with its characteristic stench. Between the mold, the temperature changes, and the rain, the coughs and sneezes echoed through the house. The maids, the tutors, even Jory had got a cold.

Thomas tended to be regularly affected, specially by allergies or seasonal viruses. Doctor Randolph, frequented the manor, as he was right now, being Thomas ill, his breathing heavy and hissing. It started two weeks ago, the boy had rolled on the bed, shivering below a pile of blankets. Nobody noticed the long night the boy battled alone against the raising fever. It was Lucille that peeped in his room early in the morning. She woke up before her mother as usually, to check on her brother. Thomas looked pale and gaunt, blue around his eyes and the hair sweat, his bed clothes wet too. He spoke nonsense and when she touched his face it felt like a flame. She was older now, at least she knows what to do.

When her mother found her in the kitchen she almost got a fit. Lucille was carrying a bucket of cold water and rags. She didn't retreat when her mother pulled her by her arm, making her to stumble. She didn't get intimidated, and tried to move on.

"Respond me in this instant, how do you-"

"It was Maisy, she woke me up, because Thomas is sick, she knocked at your door, she went to tell Jory to fetch the doctor. Please." With that the woman released the child, and she walked for the stairs going to the nursery.

"Pray god you are telling the truth."

But Lucille had better pray god no to, she would face any punishment if Thomas wasn't fainting in bed, red cheeks with the fever and laborious breathing. The maid took the bucket from her, but got startled when she saw the Mistress. Agnes look at the boy, and she got scared, he was not faking it. Without doubt he had become the fragile creature it was promised of him when he had born. She never had been particularly fond of the children, but she won't allow him to die like this. Both Lucille and the maid were given instructions, to boil water and fetch the herbs her mother told her. She watched the woman appease the child fever with the cold water and then made him to breath on the boiling infusion fumes, and put the ointment in his thin chest. As doctor Randolph was on Carlisle, it was doctor Harris who went Allerdale to examine Thomas. He declared that it not a pneumonia, but they need to care it so it won't turn into it. The man gave directions to Mrs. Sharpe that Lucille memorized, just in case. Fortunately, the infusions that the Lady Sharpe had ordered to prepared were helping him to expel the phlegm from his lungs.

For two weeks Thomas was in bed, only able to walk short distances within the nursery. His breath still fainted with few physical efforts. He was getting better by the attentions received, but his frame was thinner and pale, as also was Lucille, undoubtedly.

Why mother had told the doctor that Thomas had been playing outside in the cold? Lucille didn't know. Though she could suspect, because the man always claimed that both children were pale and lacking sun, and the constant allergies of Thomas will improve with fresh air. Being out of the house was something that just never happened for them. Of course, the doctor asked her, and she had no choice but repeat her mother lies.

She had been punished so many times, on the accusation of being a liar, she usually wasn't. It was her mother who had pushed her to tell her first lie to his father, she had even been praised then, she was younger, _let's play pretend Lucille, it is a game, but it will make your father happy, don't you want him to be happy?_ of course she wanted, she loved her father, he was different than mother, and he had given her Thomas. In time she understood that she can benefit from lying too. The rules as she understood were very simple, do not be caught. The game of lies was fun for her, it can get interesting to get people in distress when they manage different information. She did it with the maids, in order to get them afraid or occupied, she gave them instructions in the name of her mother, and then watched them being scolded by the woman. She never lied to Thomas, though, or asked him to lie, he was perfect, innocent. She didn't want him tainted in his body or his mind, even if that meant to put herself in the front line to spare him from their mother wrath or keep him unaware of things he cannot handle.

"Agnes, have you consider moving from Allerdale?"

"Dr. Randolph, what are you suggesting?"

"No formalism needed Agnes, Arthur is my best friend, and I have known you since before you two married, I consider you family as I do Arthur, with all the hot-headed he can be sometimes. I think I can speak clearly to you even if some of my worries are not welcomed by Arthur. The children, is not healthy for them to live like this, neither does help you. Besides the isolation, the house is a mold trap, it affects the boy health, and they both are so pale. They need a normal life, friends to play, run outside, sun, fresh air. Have you considered to move your family from Allerdale, at least for the winters? We can help you to find accommodations in the city. Emma can help you and the children to settle. You know I travel constantly, I was to leave two days ago but I cannot go without give a check on Thomas. I'm very glad of his improvement, but I had to tell you were close to lose another boy Agnes, and Arthur is not even aware of that. Think about it."

"Allerdale is my home, and Arthur would never approve to leave in any other place."

"Well then let him come here and partake the hardships his family is forced into because of his stubbornness!" He immediately regretted to have raised his voice.

"I'm sorry, Agnes, I'm truly sorry. I just cannot understand what goes through his head to be that blinded."

"He won't listen to me." Agnes replied.

"I thought as much, I could speak to him, if you wish"

"No Irving, but thanks. Allow me to manage this on my own."

"I'll respect your choice, but I want you to know that you can call me if you need any help."

The doctor left after giving a last check upon the children. Lucille was a little jumpy and reacted too soon when he asked, she didn't allow him to finish the question.

"I'm fine" She said in a hurry

"Are you hurt in anyway, I can check on you. Your mother doesn't have to know." He said trying to gain her confidence. He knew that Agnes had beaten the girl in more than one occasion, he found cane marks on her back. But he was not able to get an explanation from the child.

"I'm fine, will Thomas be fine too?"

"Yes, he will, don't you worry, your brother will be fine in few time."

Arthur was out of consideration, an accusation like that will only made retaliation against Agnes, and at the end it will pass its share to the girl. He pitied his friend, unable to stop his life from fragmenting, and taking this kind of impact in his family. He left Allerdale with a heaviness in his heart.

Another month passed, with their mother leading them to be, or at least Thomas. In the solitude of his room Thomas found himself an occupation. The boy had a real talent to draw sketches in the board, each day he erased it a make a different one to show it to Lucille in the morning. His mother had noticed the drawings and scowled him for this. She insisted that the chalk's powder will make him sick again, getting into his lungs.

They were both in the Attic, confident of not being disturbed as the piano notes could be heard coming  
from below. Their mother was sure having tea with Mr. Branigan. Sweet merciful moments of early summer. Thomas was most obsessed in carving wooden circus animals for a carousel. He planned the model to spin like a real carousel, using the mechanism of Lucille's old music box. The one with ballerina spinning in a pirouette, that his sister had given him for this very purpose. He had analyzed exhaustively how the clock mechanism worked. Lucille instead was pinning a moth in a frame, trying to follow the steps from the book she consulted in the trophy room.

"Do you think something happened to father?"

"No, Why Thomas?"

"He is never out that long"

"Maybe he came and left on the same day" She was not convinced of this hypothesis, but wanted to calm the boy.

"But he didn't come for Christmas either"

"He is not here every Christmas, only sometimes"

"But he always brings us presents when he came after"

"Come let's go down, I cannot hear the piano anymore"

"Ok"

Mr. Branigan was gaining favors with the Lady Sharpe, he had accompanied her upstairs, but only allowed to her room antechamber. Not much of a proper behavior, giving the fact that she was a lady and her husband was not on the house. The man had a gift for the flattery, and had discovered that the Lady was in dire need of attention. In the absent of the husband he had flirted suggestively. He even gifted the woman a precious stone pendant. Lady Sharpe had blushed, and went to retrieve a collar to fit the pendant to it. From her wardrobe, she retrieved a box with a small lock. From the box she took a gold chain, and walked back to the antechamber where Mr. Branigan help it to tie it around her neck. The pendant gleamed beautifully, like something out of place in the manor.

Later, when preparing herself to bed, Agnes took the chain and pendant, to store them safely in the box, along with the jewels she had inherited from her mother, and the few that her husband had granted her as presents. The box itself had belonged to her mother, it came to her hands after his father dead. The jewels instead, were given to her by the old man. Contrary to what she had thought, this was something she didn't has to share with her sisters. All the girls had used one or another at least once, her father had allowed it so they look radiant for their presentations in society. But none had been given to any of them with the means of keeping it. It had been after the younger Graeme daughter had married, when the jewels became in her possession. Old Graeme had said all his girls had husbands who will gift them with jewels on their own, but being Agnes the one remaining at home, unmarried, in was fair that these family heirlooms belonged ultimately to her. _Jewels for a jewel_ , he had told her.

Her sisters, the man had said, were cute silly girls. _They will have merry lives, standing lovely by their husband's side, bringing and raising children, I expected no more, and this will make me already the most content man for bringing them into this world_ , but a hint in his eyes let Agnes know he was not completely content, for any man will regret to pass without with a boy to succeed his name. Now Agnes, he had said she was special. Not a cute silly girl, but a woman, hence she shouldn't entertain herself in doll's game, pretend plays, fairytale dreams. Her father had changed since her mother's death, he was never overly affectionate, neither was harsh, nor indifferent, but then he was a devoted loving husband. There were maids to tend the children, and she could do what she wanted for most of the time. From her mother, she remembers the woman being pregnant or nursing most of the time. She was reminded not to bother her mother, not to do anything to incommode the babies, as the cries were irritating for the home's peace. After the funeral, he had spoken with her.

"When your mother and I married, you were there right away, protruding your mother belly in such a way that everyone rumored she was already pregnant before we married, which was true but I could not allow such stories running to hurt my new wife's reputation. She had an inner fire, willing, lascivious you know, one that is not easily found in a girl of good family and traditional customs. Their family was blessed for the marriage and welcomed me, otherwise they would thing their daughter may had end in an unwanted position for their name disgrace, if you know what I meant. But I have to tell, she was a loyal woman as one can be, after we marry she had eyes only for me, and she was gorgeous, my desire for her was endless and then you were there, noticeable, present in our lovemaking sessions."

Agnes cheeks went reddish, hearing these words from his father.

"Oh, no my dear, there is nothing to be ashamed, it is a natural thing. Desire, lust, temptation, is part of our human condition, love instead is building on time. I did love your mother very much, she had a way of move and a wicked smile than make myself burn inside. And even with her distended belly her body was gorgeous. I used to tease her, she will say all the shaking will wake you up, and I said her you will probably find it amusing, being rocking to sleep in such a way. You have too much of her you know, for good and bad. I have taken care of you all your life, haven't I, is my duty as a father, and I love you as fiercely as I loved your mother. You remind me of her, purest and sinful at the same time. You owe this old man the courtesy of caring. And being I alone as I am, it will break my heart to let you go and fulfill your sister's destiny. You are precious in ways you don't know yet, you don't want to be wasted up pampered as an ornament, hosting boring parties, and succumbing to a man release when he dimmed you worthy or his lust unbearable. I treasure you, and I cannot let you go, not now. I cannot imagine marrying again, as I cannot open my heart to a stranger. I cannot impose your sisters to another woman's command, erasing away your mother's memory."

"But father"

"Hush dear, you were never destined to it. Your mother wanted you to take the vows of God when you reach 16, and I would have indulged her, but now she is not with us and my heart will break if this family splits again." He placed a kiss in her forehead and hug her as she cried on his shoulder.

That was her sentence, her chance to a life of her own was taken away from her, and she had accepted it submissively. It was his father will, she respected him, and she loved him, and it was better than being taken away to a convent far from all she knew. She loved her sisters, as pestering as they can be sometimes. Later, she will regret how the Finigham brothers ceased to throw furtive looks at her each Sunday at the church. Even worse when the older brother Harry, two years older than her, had asked Mr. Graeme permission to court her, his request declined by her mourning father.

Not long after the old man died, she had found a locked wooden box among his things. It had her mother initials engraved on the lid. It arrived to Allerdale in Doyle's hands, as was the lawyer that resolved the sale of her former house and the distribution of the family savings and possessions among the Graeme daughters. She had forced the lid open, by the lack of the key, founding a peculiar collection of items inside. A handkerchief, with the initials L.R. embroidered on a corner, a feather, a silver button with a coat of arms, and yellow pieces of paper, written with ink. A broken letter, actually two letters, after she put the pieces together, matching them like the pieces of a puzzle.

 _June 02, 1825_

 _Dear Anne,_

 _I have no means to claim for you, as my father had arranged my future marriage with a Parisian lady, daughter of one his oldest business partners. To this I have no choice. I cannot deny, in risk of ruining my father's mood and hence my own economical wellness that can be achieve with this union. As you know, my brother George is the older and my father's successor._

 _The woman I love cannot be as selfish as to ask me to renounce the live I have always enjoyed. What kind of future may I be offering to you dear? if deprived from my family monetary support. Do you expect me to work like a common peasant and feed us with scraps? This I cannot do._

 _I will be a married man in two years from now, a year after George marry himself, as you know he is engaged with the beautiful lady Katherine Holmes, and I will be his best man, and after a year, my father will grant me the administration of the family business, and I will be expected to give all support to my brother._

 _So, no, I'm sorry but not I cannot run away with you like a child, relinquishing of my responsibilities. I cannot take we both into a life of poverty, for that is what wait for us out of our families protective wings. But I still agree to our encounters, with the same discretion we have been doing for this last two years, I'm still a single man and we can enjoy each other company for the time we have left._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Leonard._

 _. . . . ._

 _February 23, 1826_

 _Dear miss Weston,_

 _I am most concerned with the claims you made in your last letter, I value your friendship dearly for what it is. Friendship between acquaintances and neighbors who played together as children. It's undeniable that your recent madness is caused for jealousy. And I regret dear friend that those feelings had corrupted your soul. We are not children anymore and I plead you to give up any fantasy you could harbor of a future together with me as man and wife. This is impossible, for I am deeply in love with my betrodden, and I will travel to marry her as soon as the winter recede. It hurts my heart deeply the way you have choose to make me change my mind. Please have reason and some dignity. If your condition is true, then I deny my authorship on it. You are accusing me of fornication, being I am an engaged man, it is also an insult to my future bride._

 _If is true that you find yourself in that condition, then I pity you, for it is only you that will be damaged if this news were made public, as they will in time. I cannot image the desolation that this will cause upon Mr. and Mrs. Harlan. I advise you don't continue this wicked plot. Isn't enough that you are ruined your reputation, but drag me into it too? If you had been wronged is not by me. But as betrayed I feel, I'm willing to help you as I am a gentleman and no less is expected from me. As a friend I will speak with your father, to appease his indignation and calm his anger toward you. I will offer my support to help you avoid this shame, after the issue is solved you can return to your live, nobody has to know your ordeal, and maybe you can find a suitor one day. Please accept my advice, as the world is unfair and cruel with bastards, and will condemned you as a sinful woman. But what else can be think about a girl with no shame to give away her purity being her unmarried. You said you love me, but I cannot return the sentiment. I never loved you in the same way. Who knows how many had already claim your virtue, and appease their lust in you. What can I think, if you willingly set yourself into sin, instead of remaining chaste for a deserving husband._

 _I'm sorry, because I know you since we were children. But I would have to ask you, please do not write me again, do not pursuit the madness you are upon. I'll be gone if that will appease your troubled mind, and maybe one day after this issue is cleared and forgotten I can address you again, as a friend._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Leonard Rush._

The revelation hidden in her mother's secret box was digested quickly. Her mother had been kept this truth from her, all her life. But father or not, old William Graeme had taken her as a child of his own. He had saved his mother from the shame, and took the charge of her. As a child, Agnes never felt less, nor had less than her sisters, neither was she ever denied anything in favor of the true blood daughters. She had loved them both. She didn't need the truth at all. Had she acquired more responsibilities only for being the eldest, and even if the truth may had unburdened her, it would had been an unfair act of ingratitude to abandon her family and pursuit her own interests.

For Agnes, the past was something better buried underground, not to be revisited. The letters along with the trinkets her mother had keep hidden through the years, burned to ashes in the fire. She didn't need reminders, nor mementos.

After all, she thought she can still reborn like a phoenix. Lady Sharpe of Allerdale, not the old spinster her life had predicted to be, considering the age she had when her father at last released her. She was happy as a satisfied woman can be, for it was a gentleman the man that had took her, the envy of many younger prospects. She was embracing the possibility of being pregnant, her body with the radiance of flowers in the morning, when the sun awakens them covered with gleamy drops of mildew. If life had been or not unfair she didn't question it. May the Lord send her the ordeals necessary to clean her soul, then she will endure them.

She sat on the small table with ink and paper, and started to write a letter to her husband. The words of his father lingering in her mind... _love instead is building on time_. It truly never came to her, not in the way she expected, and she had wanted it too hard. She didn't care the urgency of whatever was retaining Arthur to return his home, she wanted him back, but not because she missed. At least not as one would miss a loving husband. The unhealthy routines in which the Sharpe lived were ingrained in their lives, and so she wanted her husband back as usually, even if it was out of greed, even if she will despise him as soon as his manners degraded with each day he stayed on the manor. It was her curse, her penitence for her mother's sins. There was no joy in being Lady Sharpe, but a meaning to appease her unladylike lust, maybe she was by all means her mother's daughter.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

Nine months, it was what it took, a couple of letters had arrived in between from the master, and a third one announcing his return. Jory had been in the town, picking up the mail. As usually, he only picked the letters addressed to the Lady Sharpe. Any letter for the master was left there, to pick up upon his return, to be handed only on the master's hand.

Agnes only got letters from her husband, or Doyle, by her husband's orders. The occasionally invitations or seasonal greetings letters when always addressed to the Sharpe family, meaning them to be delivered to the house headmaster. So, it was curious when Jory handed her two envelopes, one a letter from France, along with the other send by Arthur. She checked the envelope twice, _Lady Agnes Sharpe_ , there was no mistake, but the name of the sender was not familiar. Finlay Hertford, by the last name she was sure he was a relative of uncle Edmund. She put the letter aside, reading first the one from her husband. He was to be expected on the first week of October, which was now in two more weeks, preparations of the house were in order.

The children for a change were enthusiastic their father was coming back. But mostly because the tutor Mr. Branigan had to leave earlier, a family matter, he had informed. Its presence was required in London with urgency. They were getting free of the yoke much earlier than expected, and they will be spared from tutor until after winter.

The mood of Lady Sharpe soured in last two days. She had been deluded like an innocent child, Her the Mistress of Allerdale, in her own house. Her jewels' box had gone disappear coincidentally with the sudden travel of the tutor. This was an issue to keep to herself, in the light of more urgent news, that where revealed for the letter send by Finlay Hartford. Those were beyond anything she would ever believe Arthur to be capable. It was touching the floor on the deepest pit of hell. How long had he been lying to her? Where had he spend the last nine months?

This is what the letter had said, first that Arthur Sharpe had not returned France since Edmund Hartford's dead, almost two years ago. That Arthur was not welcome again in the Hartford state, even if he, Finlay, would not pursue the last wish of Edmund Hartford. To stir the issue will only affect the dignity of the child, as well as the Sharpe family. It would not bring the child back from the death. At least, the uncle didn't have to witness the loss of the child, who died delivering the baby forced upon her. That because of the child's condition, the ordeal had been a disgrace, a shameful, monstrous deed. Finally, there was a telegram enclosed within the letter, for Arthur Sharpe addressed to the France cottage. She opened it, breaching the mail privacy was more than justifiable given the secrets that her husband has been hiding from her, for two years...or even longer. The telegram was a bank statement to inform the completion of a fund transferal, for a very considerable amount. The funds origin was a bank in Sweden, an account on the name of Anastasia Blom.

When Jory arrived with the master, he behaves no different as he usually did. He kissed her wife cheek, and hugged the children. They were elated to receive two brown packets tied with satin strings. Children can be so easily motivated with presents. Agnes was distant, and he saw a war coming. He had expected her to be picky, because of the longer time it take him to return, but it was utterly necessary. The foolish woman, can give him a warming welcoming for a change, but he knew exactly how tame her into submission.

In the room he had cornered her kissing her against the wall.

"I missed you"

"Did you?"

"Hmm"

"Arthur stop, I have to check on the maids, dinner is about to be ready"

"I can wait, let's make up for the lost time" His hand caressed her neck, which she unconsciously exposed it by moving he head backwards.

"No, stop it"

"What is wrong with you woman?"

"Where were you, all this time?"

"Is that? Didn't you get my letters?"

"Yes, but you were not in France, I get notice that your uncle Edmund passed away two years ago"

The maid knocked at the door to give notice the Mistress that the dinner was ready.

"You are right, we better have dinner, we can speak later"

Agnes didn't drop the topic, on the contrary, it developed on the table, an ominous signal of catastrophe.

Thomas and Lucille had been witnesses of the confrontation, it started in the dining table. His mother had inquired about a letter, and a relative. His father's uncle. Thomas wondered if he had been named after him, Edmund. Whatever curiosity he may had about this relative was vanished, he had not met him, and he'll never will. Apparently, he had been dead for a while.

The questioning was about his father whereabouts, if not in France, where, and how come he had not informed her that uncle Edmund had passed away. Dead, she meant, he knew this well by now.

And whoever was that girl Camile, well she was dead too. The word 'bastard' though, he did not understand. But they were dismissed, he and Lucille, even the maid. None bothered to walk them upstairs, not locked them. First they finished the dinner in a hurry, because there was not every day they had dinner in the dining room, with the variety of food that it  
represented.

Lucille was eager for the information, truly interest in knowing what her mother was talking about, accusing his father. They hide in the third floor, finding a good spot to listen the events in the room below.

"Do you really think you will treat me like less. That you can corner me with your stupid claims?"

"I'm your wife, so yes you are in debt of an explanation."

"About what, what is there to know? That the old fool left me out of his will after I wasted myself working for him. That he died two years ago, that I had to do what I must to keep on the finances of this house, for this family!"

"Tell me about the girl."

"What?" He squinted his eyes. It was not Anastasia she was asking about. How come she would know anything about Camile.

"The marriage is not valid, as I am first married to you. I don't love her at all, she was just happened to be the only heir of a wealthy couple, that recently passed away, as she is now. Her funds were transferred to the Sharpe account. There are no relatives to inquire, or to question the legitimacy of the join. Now she's gone, and the inconvenience is solved. Now, don't put that face, aren't you the calculating one?"

"You lay with her" The tone was of accusation.

"Yes, I did fuck her, but that should not impress you at all, as your estimations regarding my 'infidelities' is much bigger than my true achievements. But you should agree with me in this, I didn't toss you away you for a common wench, this time. I didn't toss you away at all, this was to serve a purpose, as it did. I did this for my family, my children, you. But mostly, it was inconsequential, she did not conceive."

She was overwhelmed with how much was this man capable, but then men, were all the same weren't they. Of course, this was the least of her concerns, and he was diverting her attention.

"No, I mean the French girl, Camile. What is she of you?"

He breathed long and hard. This was a topic that unsettled him to the nerves. It made him feel naked and dirty. A cheater and liar, unworthy. He was an unyielding man, and found himself surprised when his iron mask dropped off and he for the first time felt like a child being questioned by his mother. Agnes was not his mother, never had the character, he had always been the one in charge, even so, roles seemed to get reverted.

His voice quivered. "She..."

"She was your lover! Did she die with your child in her womb?! Served her well."

"No! Stop" He grasped her with fury.

"You don't dare to speak of her like this. You don't! She was but a child, and sick of the mind. She was not- She didn't know. She couldn't consent nor deny. She was, she was-" a tear ran down his check. "My mistake, my punishment… my daughter."

"What are you saying?" She couldn't process it. "I don't understand"

"It is not for you to understand! You dime witted woman. I loved her, loved her! my Emily."

"Emily? Who is Emily?" Agnes inquired, in part scared for what atrocity she may get as response.

"Camile born wrong because of that!"

"Arthur, who is Emily?" She insisted, but Arthur was losing his wits.

"I didn't know it was her. I though her death!"

He paced, his palm running on his hair, almost about to pull at it.

"She is dead, like her mother, and it's on me." He sobbed, and this was something that Agnes has never seen her husband do.

"How old was this girl?" She did the math, and so this had to happened before Lucille was born.

Now thinking it, he had mentioned Emily once, well not he, actually it had been Irving. And they had argued, because he had mentioned her. One of the servant's daughters, he had said, Arthur had been fond of her, but she had been moved with other relatives. As by the doctor, he was never again so cheerful after that. A child's crush apparently. It never came into conversation again, until now.

"Do you really think I was the only child that my father had? Two girls, out of wedlock, my mother knew and sent them away. My father found ways to bring them back, keep them in the family, he always said the Sharpe belong to Allerdale, all of them."

He sat in a corner of the bed. Agnes took on using a soothing friendly voice to keep him speaking.

"Was Emily one of them?"

"Yes. Of course, we didn't know until she was with child. I was fifteen, all decision was taken away from me. She died at delivery, the child was wrong, a daughter. My mother sent her away, told me both had died... She died the same way, the child didn't survive this time."

This Emily was his half-sister, whom he had a child, Camile, who had been raised by uncle Edmund. And here she had always thought her family was complex, but Allerdale was overfilled with twisted secrets. She did the mental calculation, and then the child in question was about thirty years old. Not really a child, except for the fact that her mind was feeble as a small child.

"All these years traveling to France, did you know, did you-?"

"No, of course no! she was raised in a nursery house until eight, after that uncle Edmund took her in his house. For all the time I went there I never knew, not until she was much older, almost twenty."

"Since when had you...lay with her?

"Only once" He said, and a lonely silent tear rolled from his eye.

Maybe her husband was not a disgusting old man who liked tender little girls, still this was not at all comforting. Reality was even worse. He had taken advantage of a person that was not able to, as he had said, consent or deny. The fact that the feeble girl was his own daughter make all most gross. It all made sense now, the letter. The concern of Sir Edmund, still something was amiss.

Can she ever trust him with her own daughter? Had he ever looked to Lucille in a salacious way? He may as well do, as men are sinners and Arthur had more than prove himself. Agnes needed to focus. She could not just have stood there to watch, to see the same nightmare repeated. She had forgiven Arthur so many things but this she couldn't.

"You are filthy, a monster!"

"Are you better then, are you? Stupid woman!"

"I'm not standing here anymore, allowing you to ruin my life, your children's life, my children.

"You never cared for them, what is all this suddenly blooming of motherly feelings"

"I would be a monster like you if I left them at the hands of a lascivious sick man."

"Lascivious? You never complained in that respect before"

"I didn't know you have fondness toward laying with frail mind girls, ever less related to you!  
That is immoral, incestuous, you took advantage of her condition, that is rape!"

"I didn't rape her!"

"Did she consent then? I bet no, I bet even didn't cried to stop you! Sinner!"

"Yes, I made a mistake, but that doesn't make you a better parent than me."

"Can you sleep well knowing that you are responsible of such a terrible wrong, that killed your bastard and your bastard's bastard!"

"Silence! You won't speak of her like that, she was innocent"

"Oh. no, rotten she was, fruit and labor of sin, the only reason for her being alive was to expose you fault, and even so you commit fault again, and even worse. Her soul is condemned to root on hell as yours is. "

"Well maybe I'm, so better death not take me before I can teach some respect on you."

"You are beyond redemption, your soul will burn for eternity"

"If I have not to endure you by my side, for that would be real punishment."

He approached her closing the space, but she reacted quicker, knocking him with the candle holder that was on the table behind her. He stumbled backward and fall unconscious. She will leave, she decided, she won't die neglected guarding the shameful secrets of that corrupted house and family. She ran to find Jory and told him to prepare the carriage immediately. In a rush back to the house she took a small suitcase, grabbing only a spare change of clothes and money.

Now the children, she would take them with her, save them, but she won't take care of them. This was her chance to free herself, and she wanted nothing that reminded her of Arthur. If she drops them on a convent, they can be relocated to work in a house. It will be hard for the pampered little children but it was better than what was left here in Allerdale. They were big enough to care for themselves, they didn't have to be her burden any more. She will take a different route, her life had been a lie for enough time, she had not a charming family, not a gentleman for a husband, no fortune, only debts, and a house about to crumble over their heads.

"You'll come with me now, hurry up!" She said pulling them out of the nursery. She didn't bother to grab suitcase nor clothes for them.

The children had run to the nursery after the commotion, and Thomas was doing the same he had been doing for the last ten minutes. He was curved on the floor, crying with his hands covering his ears. Lucille grabbed his hand and bring him up to avoid him a chance for being punished by their mother. They huddled in the elevator and went down, but Lucille started to worry when they walked to the main doors.

"Mother, where are we going?" She could see the carriage waiting there, and next to it his father.

"Jory, you may leave" he said.

"Yes master" Jory obeyed, looking puzzled and ashamed. Surely, he had got a word from his father regarding who gave the commands when he was in the state.

Now Arthur Sharpe make a cynical smile, a mockery.

"Well, well, well, where 're are we going? His voice whiskey-glazed in anger.

"Anywhere but here, far away from you. Enough is enough I can't stand you anymore. Disrespecting me and making my life miserable! And..."

"You are taking the children, I see...so bold are we now?"

"I hate you! I'll leave with or without them, I'll walk to the town if I must."

"Walk you say? I don't think so, how it would look like. I think we better can discuss it, is already sunset, rest for the night, if you have not change your mind by tomorrow I'll take you to the town myself, I promise"

"I don't want to see you!"

"You are not listening!"

"I do but I won't allow you to hurt me anymore, I won't-"

"Finally, something we both agree. You won't. You won't be going anywhere, you won't continue this stupid little rebellion, you won't speak to me like you are better, you won't disobey your husband command, you won't, because you are nothing. This is your place, here. I gave you my name and you should be grateful for that, what would you had done by yourself after the old Graeme die? A spinster. Who would care for you, with the rumors. Oh, I now they are true."

"You are despicable."

"And you are unworthy of my affection, you never were but a barren woman, and I don't mean your womb, but your hearth."

"You make me that way, trapping me in this house, alone with the ghost of mi children"

"But that didn't stop you, don't you think I never noticed your moves. The needy look you had when Nort is on the state, to the children tutors?"

"I did more than look at them, and they corresponded me in a way you never did."

"You shut-" His hand crossed her face, leaving her cheek sore. "You insulted me in my own house!?"

"I did, you were never here, and even when you were physically here, you never acknowledge my existence as something valuable, as your wife?"

He grabbed her by the hair on the back of her hear forcing her to follow to the house. The children were watching, but the masters forgot they were there. Thomas was scared and pallid, Lucille holding his hand, they remained there and between the two of them carried the forgotten suitcase mother had taken with her. Lucille had been scared too, her mother had intended to take them away from Allerdale, she didn't want to leave, this was their house, for good and bad. She and Thomas had themselves, which was more valuable than the other possessions like the clothes and toys and books. Besides, the rest of the world, either children or adults, was not something she felt ready for, even less a new unfamiliar place.

Once in the hall they paralyzed, the fight had grown in level and now their mother was sobbing and begging, while the man stumbled near her, his hands were bloody, but it was not his own. They entered just in time to watch her mother's leg breaking under the boot of his father, while it rested in between two steps on the staircase. She had tried to run first, he caught her on the stairs making her to trip. The statement his father made regarding his resolution of not allowing her to leave was silenced by his wife's screams of pain.

Maybe it was the scream so hurting and penetrating that made him to react. Now showing concern or regret, he carried her in his arms to their room. Agnes sobbed and tried to punch his husband on his chest without enough strength. The boys ran upstairs as soon as their father was out of view and into the room. They didn't stop until they reached the nursery, and locked the door from the inside. Thomas was much affected, he was a sensible boy, and this exchanges usually obfuscated him much more than they did Lucille, who was used to take them as the natural order of marital interaction. The girl had become hardened with the years, and one thing she was sure of, she will never marry, no matter what her mother or father said. She will run away with Thomas if a day came in which they bring a suitor for her.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

One hour later the master had looked for Jory, and send him notice for the doctor. He did clean the blood on the stairs, after he slipped on it and fall with his bottom on the steps. For Agnes he couldn't do much, she was in pain, but the broken bone was exposed. His original intention was not that radical, but again, he had not been able to control himself. Lack of self-control was his perpetual flaw.

The doctor didn't arrive four hours later when it was still night, he was lucky he was still in town, and giving the urgent words of Jory, he dressed and followed immediately. Arthur spent those hours next to his wife, rage was receded from him, as it usually did after he realized the consequences of allowing anger to fuel his mind and body. She didn't speak, just whimpered occasionally, her lips pressed constantly holding the pain.

"You cannot leave me Agnes" He said now with a low pleading voice.

"You are my wife, I'm your husband, what I will do without you? I'll die, I'll die a crazy man. I'm begging you, please don't you ever think of leaving me again"

She looked at him with disdain, and closed her eyes. He lied on the bed next to her, sinking his nose in her neck. "I'm sorry" he murmured "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry"

Abandonment, that was the only think that Arthur Sharpe was afraid of.

When Doctor Randolph arrived, he checked on Agnes. The bone in her leg had broken in two pieces, he stopped the bleeding and reset the bone, immobilizing the leg in a splinter. It took long and it was mostly painful as didn't have proper sedatives in his briefcase. Agnes had already starting a fever even if he had cleaned and bandaged the area. It was his best hope the injure won't infect, because that will compromise the leg. He sighed looking at Agnes, it was a painful thing to be related to Arthur Sharpe. He knew it, because he had been Agnes doctor since she married. He never had been too prying in the couple business, Arthur had always asked for discretion, and Agnes had never complained.

He walked to the studio, after speaking with the maid and gave her instructions to keep the fever down. Arthur was sat, not drinking, who was good, as lately he was been given into the alcohol. Since his uncle dead and the cut of the income he used to get from him, Arthur had been slowly becoming a man he knew no more.

"Arthur"

"How is she?"

"What do you want to know, you already know is not a mortal wound?"

"She felt"

"The pressure applied to the bone to break it clean in two pieces cannot be achieved from a fall"

"What are you a police inspector now?"

"I'm still your friend, or that I believe"

"My life is a ruin"

"You made your life a ruin Arthur, is your choice. What happened this time?"

"We fight, she tried to leave. She tried to leave me, she was taking the children too."

"Did you hit your head with the floor too?"

"What?"

"You are bleeding, allow me to take a look at it" Arthur raised a hand to acknowledge.

Irving got close and started to clean the cut in his head. It was deep, definitely not a fall but a hit with a heavy object. No doubt Agnes tried to defend herself this time. He started to sew the stitches.

"Hey!"

"It will hurt just a bit, but I bet is nothing compared with the pain Agnes is enduring right now"

"Are you trying to make me feel bad?"

"No, you should be doing that on your own. Christ's sake Arthur, don't you think this time it went too far away. I know you two had your quarrels. But what you just did, I'll never think myself to lay a hand on my wife, even less cripple her like that."

"Cripple?"

"A fracture can be healed, with proper immobilization and bed rest. But when the bones break into pieces that separate like that, it never mends in the proper position, even less at her age. I'm afraid this will take a long, long time to heal, as best as it will. I recommend you get a wheeled chair, she will need it."

"Will she walk again?"

"Yes, thought I won't guarantee it won't earlier than a year. It is very important to have the cut clean and fresh, if and infection take root on the flesh it may end in an amputation. But it looks fine so far, I'll stay a couple of days to check on it. In the best scenario the bone will heal and yes, she will walk of course, but she may have a limp and suffer pains on her leg, for the rest of her life"

"I.."

"Spare me please, I have known you long enough. This is how it works, you hurt her in anger, then you are most repented, you will made up for her, for a while. Eventually it will happen again. I'm truly worried, for Agnes, and for you."

"Nowadays everyone seems to think they know me better than myself"

"I speak based on experience. You know I'm in the obligation to inform this incident to the authorities if Agnes asked me to."

"She won't"

"Out of fear, you cannot keep her by force"

"She is my wife, the Lady Sharpe, she has duty to me as I have to my name"

"Your duty is with your family Arthur. And if you care for her and the children sanity, I think a time out of Allerdale can be good the three of them. Listen to me, I can have her admitted in Carlisle's Hospital. They will take proper care of her, it will be good for her mind too."

"No"

"You don't have the resources to take care for her here. She cannot spend month after moth paralyzed in that bedroom. She need to be take out, to get air, and to see other people regularly. The children can stay a season or two with me in Carlisle, Emma will be happy to take them in."

"No"

"You are not even give it a consideration"

"No"

"You are an obstinate mule. I fear for the day I will be called here for the worse, because at this rhythm, you and Agnes will hurt each other for much worse."

"In that you are right, that woman will be the death of me"

"She is not in the strength position though. But I'm telling you, if your attacks to her keep escalating, the police will intervene."

"Don't be absurd"

"Absurd? That your wife is lying in a bed after you-. Have you ever think in how this affect your children?"

"I'll never have hurt them, I'll never could"

"They are older now, they realize what happen around them. Is this what you want them to learn, for Thomas, to treat a woman like that. What about Lucille will you stand back if she marries and her husband beats her like that?"

"The boy must to learn how to command respect from his wife, if she is not as educated as expected. And Lucille may learn for once that these are not the ways for proper ladies to behave."

"Unbelievable. You should stop excusing yourself for once. Allow me to take them, or if not the children at least Agnes, as her doctor I'm telling you she will health better in a proper hospital"

"I have to check on the state business, but Jory can get anything you need."

"Thanks, Ar-"

"Oh, and I don't want to ever hear you mention that nonsense of taking my family away, not my children, not my wife. I swear I'll kick you out of my house, and will find another family doctor if needed."

Arthur Sharpe walked out the studio, giving his back to his only and oldest friend.


	11. Thick as Clay

Doctor Randolph was relieved that the injury occurred in the beginning of Winter, as the cold and dry air didn't favor the bacteria to fester. He had performed a small surgery, to realign the bones, and ensure that the blood irrigation to the foot was not compromised. Cauterization was preferred over the injury to avoid excessive bleeding. An infection had come uninvited causing swelling and clotting. The doctor had treated it with leeches to suck the infected blood, but he also needed to remove parts of the damaged flesh. This maimed the muscle, deforming the appearance of the leg. The scar was hideous to look at, partly burned and with keloids. It stood on the skin as a very ugly reminder, stamped along the calf that didn't look meaty anymore. When seeing together, the legs seemed like they didn't belong to the same body. One may think one of them belonged to a crooked creature. Arthur was the diligent nurse who helped her to change position in the bed, and in occasions, carried her along with Jory to sit her in the couch being careful with her immobilized leg, placing it over a stool. The Doctor had requested Arthur to sleep in a different room, if only to allow the wife's leg to rest unperturbed. Agnes demanded him to make the second room as his permanent room from now on.

As soon as the external wound healed, and the leg was not in risk anymore, the doctor Irving Randolph spaced his visits. The patient resented the absence of the doctor. For once, he was better company, and Arthur usually minded his behavior when his friend was on the house. For the coldest days of January and February, Arthur had opted to lock himself in the studio, counting the resting days for the mining season to begin. He sought it as an excuse to escape from the house, preferring to submerge himself in the clay, where the red that stuck on his clothes was associated with the ore, and not with his sins.

As the doctor had warned his friend, Agnes mood swung between extremes. From sadness to anger. She cried and sobbed desperately, blaming her husband. Sometimes she yelled the worst insults, blaming her husband. Other times she mistreated the maids, accusing them of being whores, and throwing the dishes over their heads. This made some of the chambermaids to quit, but what worried the Master was the fact that the foul mouth of his wife might give topic of conversation on the town. He had advised the woman against it. The husband's patience started to break as early as only two months after the incident.

"Now you speak like a vulgar-"

"Don't you dare to say whore! You have no right to call on me, you dirty adulterer, depraved, degenerated! I should call for the officers and make you hanged! Isn't that the punishment for your crime?"

"Enough! I won't let you slander the Sharpe name."

"Oh no, that you already did yourself! I should have never married you. Maybe your sickness comes in the blood, maybe that's why god took my good baby boys, to spare them. Are you that selfish to condemn the two that are alive. Are you planning to corrupt Lucille too? And what about Thomas, would you raise him to follow your steps?"

"You're talking nonsense, woman."

"If we send them away they can be saved from your corruption. I want to leave this house, you cannot retain me housebound like a prisoner!"

"No, I won't send the children away, neither are you leaving. You are not well, unbalanced I'll dare to say. And until you see reason you will remain isolated, for your own good" He left the room, closing the door after him to block the yelling and cursing that followed. It had to be Irving for sure, who else had put those words on his wife's mind.

While the maids kept in charge of the house chores, it was required from Lucille to tend her mother. She gave her sponge baths, combed her hair, read to her for hours, delivered the food and even feed her. When the maids where off, she even fixed easy meals by herself. Agnes didn't allow a different arrangement, because that way she could keep eyes on the girl, managing with strict control the children's daily schedule and tasks. Also, she developed the habit of keeping the cane at reach and was quick delivering strokes for the most menial issue that incommoded her. _Gentle Lucille, you are pulling my hair..., I had been calling for an hour, didn't you listen child...I may die here, and nobody cares, ...you forgot to empty the basin, hurry up I need to go now!_

In the nursery, Thomas spent most of his time in the attic, trying to devise trinkets to cheer up his sister. His creations were yet rudimentary and coarse, made by the hands of a child. But for Lucille, they were beautiful, and she encouraged him constantly. With his mother in the bed, he could have wandered in the house as he pleased, but a life of being conditioned had made him fearful to disobey and poor in self-confidence. He preferred the seclusion of the attic, it brought him some comfort, and he had no interest to take the risk of being heard by his mother - or found by anyone - downstairs.

For the children's disappointment, the tutors returned as expected for the change of season. While Agnes' mood and behavior improved with the presence of the tutors, her routine also changed a little. Jory helped her downstairs to the morning room with the inner garden, so she could take the sun. In the afternoon, she played the piano on the living room. Sometimes, Arthur himself carried her back upstairs, when she wanted to retire and rest.

The presence of the tutors made the Master of Allerdale to feel uncomfortable. It was a constant reminder of his wife's words. Had she really laid with one of them? He sincerely doubted it, all them were old except for the music teacher, who had a different kind of inclination - for men, he suspected. None would be interested in Agnes, not when her hair had started already to gray. He was sure that she had said it only to anger him, and it had worked. She did it on purpose, knowing the consequences. How could he control himself with her taunting him without peace? Not the way a married woman should behave.

When not in the mines, Arthur Sharpe occasionally spent time with the children. Truth was, he felt lost with them most of the time. Even when they were under the same roof, he didn't see them on regular basis, and most of their exchanges were brief, mostly involving words of acknowledgement and salutation. The dynamics of their relation had not been altered by the interruption of the father's travelling. Thomas and Lucille were polite and obedient. They were not noisy, and never speak, laugh, or even cry too loud. They never romped around the house like wild cattle, neither they quarreled like siblings usually do. In fact, Arthur cannot recall an instance in which he needed to punish them for misbehavior. Nevertheless, they suffered the ignorance and restlessness of age. Sometimes, the tutors had complained about them being particularly frolic during a lesson. Agnes would agree, but Arthur thought it was nothing in comparison with his own impish childhood.

An observant eye would realize that the children were indeed very reserved and even a bit fearful toward strangers – and few well-known people. Their behavior changed drastically when they were in confidence. Meaning by this, they were alone. Meaning by this, there were free to express themselves. With their father they were more relaxed than with other adults, as they craved for real parent-and-child interactions that were impossible to get from their mother. The children asked him many questions, and when no other soul was nearby they became very talkative. But as they were not yet ready to engage in more perspicacious conversations, their exchanges tended to be trying for the man.

For Arthur, this was contrary to how he had related with Camille. Verbal communication was not required with her, because she was mostly dissociated from common social interaction. Camile reacted positive to touch or visual stimulus. It had started with a petting, but Arthur had allowed it to grow in closeness. He never saw her as a daughter, and he would had ignored her at all, if not because she was the reflection of Emily. By all means, she looked exactly like her mother. She lacked the pronounced facial trait that was associated to those born with her disadvantage, although her expression looked always a little childish and vacant. About her condition, Arthur had investigated with his friend Irving, letting the topic to sneak casually on one of his visits, enduring hours of conversation about other maladies he was not interested in, just so it didn't look suspicious. Doctor Randolph's opinion was that the feeble-minded condition has more in common with epilepsy, infertility, porphyria, hemorrhagic disposition, and even some peculiar physical malformations - like hunchback and dwarfism -, that were either inherited, or developed in the womb or during the infancy. As specific causes, he listed those that may affect the fetus or baby from maturing properly, like sickness of the mother during the pregnancy, stress during the labor, a violent blow on the head on the infant, a lack of proper nutrition, ingest or exposition to poisoning substances by the mother or the baby. Also, the doctor thought it shouldn't be categorized along other mental illness like delirium and dementia, that were, to his criteria, induced after exposure and partaking to certain mortifying conducts. Unfortunately, the condition was inheritable, a sick parent could birth a healthy child, and this can still pass it to his descendants.

The doctor didn't mention inbreeding explicitly, even if such association existed. Arthur was the opinion that more than a biological reason, the claims were based on religion and superstitions. When a baby was born mentally sick or physically abnormal, some would say it was a work of Satan, or a punishment of god for the sins of the parents. Hence, the parents were accused of wickedness and sexual depravities - among these, prostitution and sex between blood relatives. Illegal or immoral, marriage between first and second cousins was relatively common, especially in the wealthy families. Less consensual and more depraved forms of incest were frequent among those raised in poverty. _Ignorance_ , Irving had said, _makes men to act in their savage primitive instincts, but ambition, makes families to consent same vices for wellness or social status. If it is a matter of education, then why the privileged ones do not set the example for the less fortunate?_ Irving was the philosopher of lost causes and moral rectitude.

Arthur Sharpe didn't concern himself about moral, in his mind it was the blood that make the Sharpe strong. Their parents had been cousins, and he had born perfectly well. Camile had been and exception, but he blamed it to the early age of her conception. Now Agnes, she was not a real Sharpe, a Sharpe by name, not by blood... and hadn't been she unsuitable for growing five healthy boys? So yes, he was guilty of enacting a memory long gone away. It was the closest for him to hold the body of the woman Emily never had the chance to become. Though, the pregnancy was never intended. Later he thought, that because she was a Sharpe too, her body had taken his seed greedily to sprout. He couldn't avoid a selfish feeling of manly pride, given his age and the fact that the conception occurred in a single union. Also, he indulged himself in the illusion of a child born from Camile, and how he would raise him to be the heir that would restore Allerdale to its former glory. It had been but a dream that turned into a nightmare. Still, he resented that it ended.

Thomas and Lucille Sharpe had enjoyed the escapades with their father even if they were scarce, few of the good times they will remember with the man that was their father. He had taken them once to see the horses and allowed Jory to show them how he cared for them. They even had seen the new little foal that had birth on Spring. He had taken Thomas to the mines once, the workers stared open mouth as they never had seen the child, even less standing next to the master. Thomas would had liked to spend more time there, or to be able to accompany his father to work every day. The excavation with all the ramps and the carts rolling over them was mesmerizing for his eager and creative mind.

Today, they just walked on the state, the three of them, because their father said that exercise would make them strong in body and character. They had reached some old stones forming a broken line of bricks no higher than the knee, the ruins of and old construction. The father chose that place to rest, and from there, they could view the family graveyard. He decided to tell them a story, in fact the very story that every single Sharpe had been told at least once, the one about their ancestors. He thought they were old enough to learn about their heritage, and this was something that not the mother neither the tutors could teach them.

"Father I'm thirsty"

"Thomas you cannot be exhausted already. Do you want to return?"

"No father" The boy spoke with regret.

"Well then, how about a story?"

"Yes please" Both children nodded, and the man smiled. Usually it was hard for him to find something that connected him with the children, but they loved stories.

Arthur thought that the young Sharpe indulged themselves too much in fairytales, so he insisted that the tutors selected more substantial topics for reading. Books were something that they had aplenty.

"The first Sharpe were born in this very soil, though they weren't Sharpe just then."

"How not?" Lucille asked incredulous.

"Well Lucille, the Sharpe name was forged, like a suit is tailored to fit the one that wears it. But this happened later, at the beginning they had nothing, not this land, nor the house, not even the name Sharpe. They were born in poverty. Unlike you, they had no toys, nor tutors. They lived in tents, being used to cold and hunger from early age. And they started to work as soon as they could raise a tool and carry a hat over their heads."

"Were they like baby Jesus?" Thomas asked.

"No, not exactly. You'll see-"

"Father, did they have a family? Baby Jesus had a father, which is god, but he also has a family."

What part of entertain the children with a family story had he considered easy? And was Agnes trying to raise the boy for a convent!? He was not a religious devoted beyond social formalisms that needed to be addressed publicly. He was perfectly fine with his lack of faith, unlike his wife, that drowned herself in a pretend piety.

"Well, Lucille, let's say the Sharpe didn't have a proper family. They were two in the beginning, a boy and a girl born together, and they only had each other."

Lucille wished she had born together with Thomas, then they could have the same age, and share absolutely everything. The father made a pause, just to avoid being interrupted again with a question.

"Father keep on the story, please." Both children pleaded.

"The occurrences that led to the birth of these children are imprinted in our blood like the grim to a miner's face. Their ancestors were peasants, who travelled with the seasons to find jobs in the big estates as unskilled workers. There used to be coal mines to the West, beyond Allerdale grounds. The miners then, weren't much different like they are now. Only that, it was not only the men who settled in encampments, but the whole families, women and children too. All of them had to work they share. The noblemen who owned the land provided them grain, a meager earning, and the benefit to live in his land while they worked it for him."

"Are there children with the miners in Allerdale?" Lucille asked.

"No, only the men camp nowadays. The old settlements were not only anarchic, but also plagued with debauchery, diseases, and bastards. The number of children in some of them surpassed the adults."

"What is a bastard?" Thomas asked. His curiosity toward the word had remained since his mother's 'accident'.

"A child born without a father." He noticed they didn't looked very convinced with the explanation, so he decided to elucidate it, to avoid them getting an erroneous conclusion – as they can get from their mother and her god-fearing speeches.

"It happens when the mother and the father of the child are not married to each other, then the child is not granted with the father's family name."

"Is that bad?" Lucille asked.

"Is not ideal. A bastard child bears a social stigma... a mark of disgrace."

"Can it be fixed?" Thomas inquired.

"Well, it may, if his condition is not exposed as an infant, and another man decides to take the child as his own, giving him his name."

"Were they bastards? The boy and the girl." Lucille asked, and now the father could see that she was smart indeed. She had payed attention and was making logical inferences about the story. _Clever girl._

"Yes, they were born bastards and orphans. Their mother died in childbirth, the father could had been anyone. They were given to their closest relatives who care for them. But their hardships started even before they born. Their mother was a young girl, not much older than you Lucille. She lived with their aunt and uncle, and few cousins older and younger. They were not happy with the girl bringing an extra mouth to feed, when they already oversaw her, as they had done since her parents died. The pregnant girl had run away, leaving the camp, when she was close to the delivery. She walked four days and nights until she reached this very patch of land, and the pains of labor started during the night."

"Why did she runaway?" Lucille asked.

"Because their relatives were mean with her since they realized she was with child. And she didn't want her child to born there, like an errant gypsy, destined to live and die between faces blackened by the coal."

"How mean?" Lucille, again.

"They... punished her without reason... and yelled names at her."

"Like 'whore'?"

"Where did you hear that word, Lucille?"

"Mother?" She had heard it also from him, from both her parents, more than once.

"What is whore?" Thomas asked too.

"...is when a man and a woman that are not married do things that a married couple do."

"Have dinner?" The boy was innocent in a charming way. He has not idea of what activities his parents did together. The most common occasion in which he saw them at the same time was on the dinner table, or when they-

"...fight?" Lucille said. Now she was more perceptive, and bold.

"Your mother and I don't fight, we sometimes have disagreements...that we eventually resolve."

The Sharpe masters tend to forget about the children during their 'disagreements', like for example, the last one which caused their mother to be incapacitated in bed.

"What I mean is the things that a mother and a father do to make babies."

"Oh" Lucille got it. She knew it has something they do while sleeping on the same bed, not with precise details, though.

"So yes, they called her a... whore, but know that is not a nice word to use, not for a gentleman or a lady, even less for you children. I don't want you to say it again, do you understand?"

"Yes, father." Both said quickly.

"The miners in the camp sent a search party to find the girl, giving she was just a child herself and they believe she was lost. They found her in the morning of the fifth day, when they were about to give up the search. The first snow of the season had fallen during the night, and the land was covered in a white layer. The girl's body was found dead and frozen. She had taken off her coat and used to keep the newborn warm. Some said she died because the cold, but others said she bleed to death first, because around her body, the snow was tainted red. The two babies were found wrapped inside the coat. The girl was buried right there, as the men will not carry the body back in that weather. When they dug the ground, it was crimson as blood, and some say, as the gypsies were very superstitious, that it was her blood than had stained the ground and her very soul had attached to it."

He stopped because Thomas was crying, more like sobbing silently. "What's wrong Thomas?"

"Is a sad story" The boy sniffed.

The father took the boy in his lap.

"Well this is not a fairytale, it is a true story. It is the story of how our family started. It does have a better ending after all, we are here, aren't we? These children lived beyond adversity, to give us a land, a way of sustenance, and a name. To be born a Sharpe is a privilege, not a burden, and as hard as the work on the mines can be, even if we may struggle from time to time, we must keep on, and continue the Sharpe lineage."

Thomas nodded, now more calmed.

"The place where the children were born, and the mother was buried, is right here where our family burial ground is located today."

"How did they get the Sharpe name, did someone raised them as their father?" Lucille was quite the inquirer. Arthur could see the gears moving inside her head for sure, trying to make sense of all the details.

"No, they were given into care of their mother's relatives. Like their mother before, they were raised along, feed, and clothed, but they were not showed kindness or love."

"Who was the father?" Lucille was still focused in getting revelations from the story.

"Well, the girl never told. The children were both pale skin, as pale as their mother and their aunt. But their hair was dark, dark gypsy hair. Many came from the northern lands to join the work settlements."

"Didn't he love them?"

"A proper suitor would had requested to marry the girl, even as young as she was, the aunt may have consented. But he didn't, which may everyone think that he had engaged her by force. Because of that, he would had been lynched if they knew who he was."

Arthur Sharpe was having a hard time keeping the story age appropriate for his children, avoiding crude words. He had been told this same story as old as Lucille, and his father as well-mannered as he was had not spared him from explicit terminology... _In those days, children in the miners' camps grew on their own, they initiated too young in vices like liquor and fornication_... He remembered asking then what fornication was, . _..is how a father and mother make a child, joining their bodies by their private parts in sexual arousal. How? Well..._ The explanation had been simplified, yet not convincing for the child's mind. _Is this the truth father? Yes, but you must know, this is a thing only for married couples to do. Your mother may think you too small for this conversation, so we better keep this men's talk to ourselves. Yes, father._ Maybe he had been too young himself for the crude terminology.

He decided to continue, trying not drifting away from the story.

"The boy was named 'Cole', because his white skin was always covered in black coal dust. In the tents, coal dust was everywhere, and small children were usually wandering on the floor. When the adult left to work, all the infants were left under the care of the older children - those who were not yet old enough to work on the mines. One of the small girls got fond of the twins, her name was Nan. She combed their dusted heads, washed their faces and bottoms with a soaked rag, and make sure they eat their food every day. It was her who named the girl 'Aine', which means radiance. Nan was the one who saw their first steps, taught them their firsts words, and really cared for them as family. They grew together, and guess what, they remained together for their entire lives. They all rest here." He walked them to the family graveyard and showed them the headstones engraved with the names. Coleman Sharpe, Anya Sharpe, Nan Hayden.

"Was she like our Nana?" Thomas asked with interest.

"Very much, Thomas, she is the very reason that all the Sharpe nursemaids are called Nana. I guess she was as given as our Nana, and my father's Nana before her."

"I like her" Thomas said.

"Indeed, and by the time she was called to work, the children were not as defenseless as before. Though, on their own, they learnt many things on the hard way. In the tent they shared with their relatives, no one spared them from harsh words and beatings. But they always stuck together, defending each other. Finally, they grew up and moved on their own, they trusted no one, except Nan, and kept to themselves in order to survive. Even with the lack of a proper education, they were smart and resourceful. They caught small game to satisfy their hunger and worked in the mines as everyone else. Their luck changed when an accident occurred, one of the deepest mines collapsed, and Cole was trapped inside with a group of workers. His sister joined the rest of the miners to dig but they stopped after two weeks, when the hope of finding them alive was lost. Aine continued and found a body, and another, and another. All the miners had died by injuries or suffocation, all but one."

"Cole?"

"Exactly, and being the workers such a superstitious lot, they became even more wary of him. Now, the nobleman that owned the land, Sir Stuart Walpole, had gotten notice of the accident, and he sent word for Cole that he wanted to meet him. The old man was curious to know what secret or amulet the boy had to avoid death in such way. Cole had never seen the manor where the noblemen lived, not even from afar. He thought it too big for a single family, when it could had given room to the whole camp of workers. The interior was even more exuberant, the boy had never seen opulence and went startled by the noble ways to live. He made himself a goal, to change his miserable life for one like that."

"But how he survived?"

"No especial trick, no magic at all, only endurance. In truth it was the sole idea of returning to her sister's side, they had never been separated and they loved each other being the only true family they had. That thought had keep his will during the two weeks he remained in the dark, fighting the hunger and controlling his breathing in the enclosed space.

Soon, Cole saw a real opportunity to relieve them both of their filthy live and kin. He said to Sir Walpole that his body had been imbued with magic at childbirth. His mother had placed a spell on him to be guarded before she died. He said that nature protected him, and this protection was stronger in the place he had born, because the earth itself was marked red by his mother's blood. With these words, Cole convinced the landlord to allow him mining on Allerdale Hall. It was empty ground, not good for crops, nor even grass for the beasts. So far, all the attempts to harvest the clay from the ground, resulted useless, bad land, cursed land, as the gypsies said. Any intent of settling ended premature. Sir Walpole wanted to make money of every inch of his land, otherwise it was a waste, so he offered young Cole a deal and sent him to Cornwall, to learn about the clay mining. The brothers left and returned in a year, they took Nan with them and hired new workers, starting the first mine in Allerdale. It was never easy, this land been never gentle with those who live on it. And our precious red clay has been a challenge for every Sharpe generation. But their perseverance eventually gave its fruits. The clay was not only a novelty because of its color, it also resulted strongest, making durable bricks. With time, the brothers gained the appreciation of the landlord and his family, because of their hard work. Their skin, once covered in black coal, became instead crimson, stained by the clay. Sir Walpole used to say that Cole looked like a golem, which is a man made of clay, and he may as well be born from the earth itself, cut and molded by a very sharp knife. The workers nicknamed him 'sharp', as a mockery out of jealousy for the privileged position he had acquired with the patron. Not 'sharp' Cole thought, 'sharpen' as in... improved, enhanced, tuned to perfection, he and his sister had achieved just that, to separate themselves from their lot, setting their own path of opportunities. Eventually, young Cole requested the hand of the man's second daughter in marriage, but he was denied. As much as he estimated the young man, Sir Walpole would not marry his daughter with a man who had nothing, no land, no fortune, not even a proper name. How he will present Cole in society along her daughter? Still, the man didn't want to lost Cole as he was a valuable asset, as a worker.

Not many years later, Sir Walpole died of a sickness that took the life of many that Summer. In the lack of a male heir, he left to his brother the lands of West Allerdale, where the coal mines were settled, on the condition of him providing for his charges - his widowed wife and his unmarried daughters. No one opposed to the marriage then, they boy was honest and they girls were urged to find a husband. Cole married the older daughter, to whom the father had left Allerdale estate. The twins built a house right here, those rocks you were sitting before is all that stands from its walls. With the union Cole inherited not only the land, but a title, as Sir Stuart Walpole was descendant of a Baronetcy with reminder to the grantee's son-in-law. The Sharpe name was officially registered when Cole travelled with his family to London, so his name was placed in the Official Roll, in order to get recognition of the Baronet title. The twins could not introduce themselves at the palace with just gypsy nicknames. So, they gave themselves proper names, that suited a respectable English Baronet and a Lady. Sir Coleman Sharpe and Lady Anya Sharpe.

This crimson clay is the responsible of our name and our success. Today is still firmly pressed in the grounds of the Royal palace. Coleman and Anya started the family wealthy, but it was their descendants who made it reach its paramount and ordered the construction of Allerdale Hall manor. Almost every single Sharpe had born and died in this land."

Lucille read the inscription on the headstones aloud.

"Sir Coleman Sharpe - April 17, 1752. B.B.H. Lady Anya Sharpe. December 08, 1755. B.S.W."

She continued reading the headstones in silence. The girl didn't notice the fact that there was no stone for a Lady Walpole. Sir Walpole's daughter was not buried in Allerdale. Her body was sent to her own family burial, as she died still young, leaving a son, Johnathan Sharpe, who was raised by his father, his aunt, and Nan.

"Father, what does these mean?" Lucille asked, touching the engraved initials in the headstones of the first Sharpe brothers."

"That means that they loved each other deeply, in a way they couldn't express openly. "

"Like Thomas and I?"

"No. In an adult way that some would have considered inappropriate. But we shouldn't be ashamed of it, my grandfather used to say that the Sharpe blood in our veins run as thick as the clay under our soil. He said we are like this clay, resilient and strong, and in this very soil a Sharpe can prosper. It bounds us together, like blood."

/\/\/\/\/\/\

At the beginning of the year, Doyle had visited and met with the master regarding the financial expenses planned for the upcoming season. Agnes had not partaken of the conversation, but she knew of the visit and so inquired with his husband. Arthur limited to answer that the funds were assured, even if the fortune of the Sharpe family was the shadow of its former glory, the last transaction had been a positive recovery. Agnes knew this was only because of the scam her husband had plotted with the Swedish woman. Taking advantage of the brief repentance period that her husband customary transited after his violent outbursts, she requested Doyle to order some commodities to make her bedrest period more bearable, including books translated from other countries, a mancala with glass beads, an ivory chess set, embroidering threads from India, a daguerreotype camera and even a cylinder phonograph. To this Arthur conceded, not showing real interest about the items selected.

Without the need - or excuse - to travel to France or anywhere else, adding to this the wife's condition, the master of Allerdale inhabited most of the time on the estate. The mining season had brought some relief, but it didn't impede that the man's sanity deteriorated gradually. In the same way his wife had found escape in her delivered new treasures, he had found his getaway in alcohol. This only made the wife's life more miserable, as if it wasn't enough with the prostration. Arthur opted to leave Agnes mainly to herself, and she felt like wasting herself progressively, because of her limited mobility.

With the passing time, his drinking turned worse. He had started to complain and found faults in everything, not that this compelled him to provide constructive solutions. He had even complained about Thomas. Why the boy strained with such few efforts? he had been unable to ride the horse, the beast had dropped him off and he didn't have the strength to hold on. The boy sweated and fainted from the hot, the heir of Allerdale was built with a delicate frame, not suited for hard work.

The Master's disposition didn't last for the complete mining season, and taking advantage of his incapacitated wife, he travelled when the first Autumn chills started to settle. Of course, he told his wife that he'll go to Carlisle for a couple of days to speak with the bank about possible investors. Of course, Agnes knew he just wanted to seek relief in brothels away from home. Of course, he was gone few more than a couple of days.

Arthur Sharpe arrived unannounced at night. Lucille had sneaked into the kitchen, as she had been sent to bed without dinner for a mistake with the boiling water that ended in his mother accidentally being burnt, even if it didn't cause a blister or injury. A bad thing about growing up was that the small spaces between the walls where most unreachable, and what had been her safest route downstairs for years was not affordable anymore. Also, the stairs creaked more under her weight, and she had to be extra careful when wandering at night. The woman had developed a sixth sense to recognize the creaky steps in the stairs as well as the metallic sound of the key turning inside the lock. Lucille was not locked in her room anymore, but each night she had to return the ring of keys to her mother, after locking Thomas' room door.

The family Doctor had retired the cast from Lady Sharpe's leg right two months ago, still he only encouraged to put weight on the leg for short periods at a time. Being able to bend her leg by the knee, Agnes was able to fit in the elevator. That relieved Jory of the constant carrying up and downstairs. The task that was passed onto Lucille, who now pulled her mother's wheelchair, having always to run for a blanket to cover her legs. The woman complained of pains all the time, the cold settled in her bones making it even more painful. In the afternoons, she requested a hot water bag when she rested her legs on the bed. And even if the maids were the ones who usually prepared it, it was Lucille who delivered it, hence getting the blame because the water was too hot. The cane had been almost broken over her back, with three hard hits.

Like a specter, the inebriated man entered in the house, leaving his coat and hat in the main hall where the driver has dropped his trunk. He walked to his studio and poured some whiskey in a glass, not to warm himself up, he was already warm, too warm, he had drunk all the trip to Allerdale and he was more than lightheaded already. He emptied the glass in one gulp, shaking his head abruptly. He took off his jacket, vest, and tie, and went to the kitchen to wash his face. The girl was in the kitchen in night clothes, pale skin and dark hair, just like him, he almost jumped on her sight, letting the glass on her hand to slip on the floor. Who was this girl again? he didn't remember hiring such a young maid. The girl was paralyzed, her body contour was noticeable below the faded gown that stuck to her lean shape. He approached her like a predator, his steps lacking steadiness in the stupor of alcohol. He placed his hand in her chest, feeling her ribs. A young girl in the brink to womanhood, a seed starting to sprout, thin but not meager, the flat belly with a bit of baby fat, the tiny nipples like rosebuds going to blossom, Emily. She was about to move, and he thought she would may run away, but on the touch of the man's hand she blushed. In truth, she was petrified, holding her breath when the intrusive hand cupped her chin, when his breath reached closer to her ear with his alcohol stench, when he smiled at her with a mouth full of teeth, two dimples showing on his cheeks. In the distance, Lucille was sure she could hear the elevator, but her father didn't seem to notice it.

He stumbled, closing the gap between them. She walked backwards until her back was pressed against the wall and the man's body closed any escape possibility in front of her. He didn't recognize her, she realized, he thought she was someone else, not mother though.

"Emily," a hand caressed her cheek while the other tangled in her long hair. Lucille felt her body shiver under the peculiar touch.

It was warm and nice, like Thomas body pressed against her under the blankets. She knew her father ways toward her mother, she had watched them enough, but she was not afraid, not of her father, not of the way his hand caressed her cheek, her hair. This kind of contact, the tenderness, it had always been denied by her mother.

"I never stopped thinking of you, your smile, your perfect skin white as mine, your blue eyes, the kiss in the stables. I love you dear, let me see you anew."

And with that, his hands ran softly by her sides, sneaking under her nightgown and placing themselves on her hips. His face moved closer, depositing a chaste kiss on her cheek and another on her closed lips, while the hands ran up lifting the fabric with them. He stopped when he reached up to her armpits, just to caress the pink little tops over her bosom. She lifted her arms and the gown slide through her head and out of her body. The cold making goose pimples in her skin. He stood there, watching her body in his intoxicated state. Like a child that had just unwrapped an unexpected present. A noise was heard suddenly, followed by her mother's voice.

"Arthur?" He turned around to figure it out were the sound came from, and there in the door appeared Agnes pulling the wheelchair by herself.

"I didn't receive letter for your arrival." He turned back again to see the empty space between him and the wall, and the gown in his hand. He turned abruptly, hiding the item behind his back.

"I'm here now, is that any matter?" He said in an unfriendly tone. She noticed it and took offensive right away.

"No. I'm more than used to your bully attitude when you have soaked up your last remains of decency in alcohol."

He grabbed her by the hair, pulling her head in pain, lifting her a little from the wheelchair.

"You know nothing of me. Nothing." the last word was spat on her face. "I deserved better, you know. I still do."

The man stumbled out of the kitchen and went to the studio, grabbed the bottle of whiskey and walked outside the manor.

Agnes accommodated herself, putting her weight on her good leg. She cleaned her tears with the back of her hand and moved the wheels to return upstairs to her room. The elevator made its creaky sound again, more like the whining of a demonic critter. A door was slammed in the distance, no doubt it was her mother locking the door, to impede her father from entering her room in his condition. Lucille stepped out of the cupboard, her body was naked, except from her undergarments, and trembled like a leaf in winter bliss. She ran as fast and quiet as she could toward the security of her room, but she didn't go inside. She needed to scream and cry and calm down and think about what had happened and what she felt, how she feel right now. The nursery, she went there, under the blankets of her old bed she rolled, looking to the ceiling. She had been scared, but not of her father, she knew he never would hit her as he does to her mother, or as her mother does to her, he never had. It was wrong the whole thing, because he was drunk. _Men,_ Adelaide had told her once, _act stupid when they drink too much, your father is not the worse, child. Is better to leave them undisturbed until the alcohol run out of their bodies. Then they will have a headache the next day, and regret._

 _Then why men drink?_

 _Most of them, to forget the hardships of life. But unfortunately, drink never made things better, on the contrary._

 _Do you think father wants to forget us, Thomas and me?_

 _Oh, of course no, it is only a bad habit, difficult to get rid of._

 _But you said..._

 _A bell had ring, giving Adelaide a scapegoat from the conversation, she wished her sister was alive as she had been always better to calm the little ones._

Her mother will kill her for sure, it won't exist punishment enough in her eyes. It was her own fault, Lucille thought. She shouldn't be there, less at that hour. Her father had looked unfocused, talked to her as if she was another person. He caressed her so slowly, softly, it felt...different. That night, for first time in her life she felt desire. It was more that only wish for something, it was not a material desire. Instead, it was her body longing to feel again, the warm of his hands and the heat of his body close to hers. Like when you wake up from a dream and wish so bad to be back and continue it. But again, this was not a desire of her mind, it was one from her body, her skin, the blood pulsating under her skin, the small soft hairs that stood over it, and whatever was inside of her twisting on her stomach like about to get sick. Another thing happened that night for the first time, she ran a hand over her own body, exploring it, trying to imitate the touch the man had done. She caressed her sides with her fingers, as if they were feathers, stopping as he did on her chest, touching the nipples in a round movement with her thumbs. She shuddered and stopped, and then cried as a child, because she still was. Her thirteenth birthday was only a few days to come.

She had seen their parents together before, in the bed. At first, she had been indifferent, not understanding the exchanges of movement, then she had felt intrusive, noticing the nakedness that was not for her eyes to see. She never had a full glance of the intercourse nor an understanding of what really happened during it. Her perception was that they moved, and cursed - her father -, and yelled - her mother. Their naked bodies were close together and sweated with the movement, sharing the same bed, their mouths sharing the same air.

It was not as her and Thomas, they only held close to keep the warm, not naked, not moving, not sweating. They have not sleep clothe less on the same bed since they were very young, Thomas a toddler. Still, she knew what her father had done was wrong, she had enough proximity warnings from her mother - delivered by the cane- followed by long lectures about sin and propriety. A proper lady always keep distance from physical contact and dressed in sobriety - not exposing skin, except for the hands and face. Her mother had gradually banned bathing together, sleep in the same bed, sleep in the same room, lap sitting, tickles, hugs and kisses, from the sibling's life. Of course, this never happen entirely, not if they can sneak their way together at night. She secretly had thanked in a prey for her mother bedrest, it gave her some independence during the day, as the woman cannot follow her upstairs when she tended Thomas. Wrong or sin, Lucille didn't dismiss these new feelings, no matter how conflictive and confusing they were, and they nursed her own curiosity in a surreptitious way.

The diatribe between the wanting for the touch to be repeated, and the shame of having that feeling, was torturous. A new wave of guilt streamed on her chest. Thomas. She had been lingering on selfish thoughts and was trying to convince herself that she had not wronged her brother. He was still young and naive, and she must protect him from what he cannot understand yet. The pang in her stomach grew and she find herself unable to rest, opting to get back to her room, but first took and old nightgown from the closet. It fitted tight and she couldn't avoid thinking that the one she had lost tonight might become an invitation to trouble if her mother found it, wherever it was.

In the stable, the man held the nightgown in his hand, his face stuck on it, smelling its essences, drowning his sobs, drying his tears. Now he realized it had been Lucille, he had not noticed when his little daughter had started to change into a girl. She never had been graceful neither had the beauty of a China doll, but she was not devoid of grace. The silky ebony hair that was a family treat made a contrast with the pale skin, pale as the Alpine moths, unnatural white, ghostly white, same as the boy. The boy. Lucille was devoted to him, and he couldn't avoid feeling a pang of jealousy.

Life was unfair, but of course it was, wasn't he a Sharpe? He was cursed, all his kind was. At the age of 15, he had confessed his love to Emily. They had been raised together, and she was the closest he had for a friend or a sibling. He had told her he wanted to marry her, when they become older, he would attend college and return to prove himself, working for his father in the family business. Then he would court her openly and properly. But his hormones couldn't wait years long, and he drag her into the exploration of his own desires. He was immature, she was pure and innocent, being only 13. They promised to each other on the tryst where both secretly shed their childhood, and in the few that followed. Eventually he had learned the truth, that in Allerdale, the blood ran strong and sticky, like the clay on the mines. He tried to take full responsibility of his actions, but his parents didn't approve, not because they were young, or because she was not raised in a noble family, but because they were half brother and sister.

He had reneged his blood, gaining the only slap that his father ever gave to him, and making his mother ill of sadness. Jacob and Louise Sharpe were trying to break the cycle, betraying their own heritage. They send him away to study, so he would develop interest in a different girl, one not related to them. What they thought a fugacious infatuation, was for him true love. His grudge lasted out a decade, in which he took fun of respectable young ladies from respectable families, just to rejected them to his mother's dismay. Yes, he had married Agnes eventually for his father's sake, knowing that because of him the souls of his ancestors became restless, haunting him at every shadowy corner of the house.

For what happened tonight, Arthur hated himself, because he realized that he didn't want to fight against it, again. The girl had contained a scream, but not the plead within, father... "Father, please" The words had run through his brain trying to find the conscientious part in his inebriated mind. _Father..._ He used to travel to escape from Allerdale, but in Allerdale, it was the rest of the world he was escaping. The manor was for him a place for both joyful and painful memories. What an irony of life, he thought, holding the fabric to his chest.


End file.
